


In my Head, In my Heart

by theblacksmith



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ass Play, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protective Sandor Clegane, Sansa Stark is not nice, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 90,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblacksmith/pseuds/theblacksmith
Summary: Sandor Clegane fucked up.He has to figure out how to make things right but he doesn't know at what cost.Sansa Stark is fucked up.She shouldn't make his life worse than it already is but she can't help herself.They are both on opposite sides of the tracks.Can they ever be friends?Or will everything between them keep them apart?
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 416
Kudos: 226





	1. Fear on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends,
> 
> I've been working on this story for months now and finally found the courage to post it.
> 
> This is going to be perhaps a longer one. I'm already thirty pages deep and have a direction of where I want it to go. 
> 
> My other story is on hiatus at the moment because, sadly, Idk where I want to go with it. Suggestions are welcome. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this whirlwind of a story. It's a little dark, so please let me know if you need more warnings! 
> 
> Thank you <3

_**Gotta get away, gotta escape** _

_**From the daylight** _

_**I can see the way painted beneath the moon** _

Sandor was breathing so hard he believed his heart was going to explode right out of his chest. He pumped his arms like a mad man creating as much space as he could between him and the mc club that was close behind. His combat boots echoed off the pavement with his heavy footfalls. He raced down the never-ending street, sure that he would not make it out of this alive.

He could hear their obnoxious laughs not far off behind him. He swallowed down a gulp of pure fear; his heart thundered violently with the thought he was going to die. He was going to leave his little sister to fend for herself against their drunken piece of shit dad.

As cliché as it sounded, his whole life was flashing before his eyes, and he could only hope that his sister would make something of herself. He didn't want her to follow in her idiot brother's footsteps. Sandor wanted her to have a successful, fulfilling life. Not one where she was running for her life because she decided to sell drugs in the wrong neighborhood.

He could feel the rumbling of their motorcycles beneath his feet. Fear crept into every single part of his being. He could feel his blood run cold with the knowledge that in a matter of moments, his measly life would be over for good.

Sandor searched for a place to hide. His eyes flitted around wild, frantic, desperate to escape the hell he currently found himself in. His pulse pounded; all he could hear was the blood whooshing in his ears. Finally, his attention turned to a tall layer of shrubs covered in thorns. Sandor swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. He could already feel the sting that would occur if he chose such a spot to escape.

The rattling of the engines getting ever closer decided his fate. Without another thought, he ran to the bushes, his hands lead the way. He bit back a cry that desperately wanted to tear out of his throat. The thorns dug into his skin, cutting everywhere like a million paper cuts. It was excruciating to the point he thought he might black out.

He was sweating profusely by the time he secured himself inside the bushes from fucking hell. He did his best to ignore the blood spilling out of the cuts engraved on his skin.

"You can run, but you can't fucking hide, kid!" A man roared into the night sky.

A gunshot went off; his whole body jolted at the booming sound. He released a shaky breath as he closed his eyes, allowing the tears to finally slip down his face, where they mixed with the blood painting his skin red.

The motorcycles grew more and more distant until finally, they died out. He remained still as a statue unable to move from his current spot. He would have to fight his way back out of the prison he currently resided in, and he wasn't quite mentally prepared to do that just yet.

The chill of the night finally caught up to him, and the sweat that slickened his hair pressed against the nape of his neck, causing him to shiver even more.

Sandor inhaled a couple of shuddering breaths until he found the courage to break out of the thorn cage. He didn't hold back the slurs of expletives that flowed out of his mouth this time around.

He found shelter under an old willow tree that swayed sadly in the wind. He plopped down underneath it and inspected the wounds that covered most of his exposed skin. He concluded he would live for now.

He had never meant to wind up in this kind of trouble, dealing a few pounds of weed had seemed easy enough. He had never thought there would be consequences that came with accidentally selling on someone else's turf.

Once the President of Night Diablo's caught wind of a trespasser on his stomping grounds, he put a hit on Sandor.

It didn't take more than a few days for Sandor to realize that he was being followed. It had been the reason why he had avoided going out when it was dark, until tonight when he was forced out of the house by his father. They had a fight that happened to get a little out of hand. His father had brandished a knife at Sandor, and his first instinct had been to flee.

Now, that he had let everything settle in, he was sick to his stomach with the thought he had left his sister to fend there by herself with that vile man they called father.

Still, he had to get home. He knew his dad had probably gone and passed out after he left. Sandor's sister tended to keep to herself and stayed away from their dad. He didn't usually seek her out. He was perfectly fine with physically assaulting Sandor. Still, he had never laid a violent finger on her, and for that, he was grateful. He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to his baby sister.

He grunted as he picked his wounded self off the ground and began the trek home.

Sandor's home was a small one-story in a neighborhood that locking your car did no good. It was full of poor, uneducated, assholes that would rather complain about their misfortunes than do something about making their lives better.

Sandor's father was one of those poor, uneducated, motherfuckers that blamed his problems on everybody but himself. When Sandor's mom died of cancer, his father was left with two children he had no desire to raise and a load of medical bills for a woman that he cheated on every chance he could.

He took his aggression out on the closest thing to him. That just happened to be Sandor's sorry ass.

At seventeen years old, he towered over his dad. If he genuinely wanted to kick the living shit out of him, he could. Yet, he did nothing because he didn't want his sister to wind up living in some foster home without her big brother there to protect her.

So, he did what he had to so they could survive in such an unforgiving world.

It just so happened that he had no luck. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do about the MC gang. Unfortunately, they were the shoot first ask questions later type of club.

Sandor had no quarrel giving them the money he had earned from selling on their turf if they had just asked. They craved blood, and he was fresh meat that they wanted to sink their teeth in. They were animals. There was no reasoning with them.

He had to find a way to keep his sister out of the mess he had created. The last thing he wanted was those bastards going after her. He shivered at the thought of what men such as them would do to an innocent girl like her.

Sandor's sister was shy, meek in every sense of the word. Anne had a heart of gold that only radiated warmth and love. His sister deserved more than what she had been stuck with-a good for nothing father, and a troublesome older brother. She had dreams of becoming a doctor, and he planned on ensuring she would be able to follow that dream.

Selling drugs probably wasn't the smartest choice to earn money. However, it was the quickest way to gain enough cash to stuff in a savings box that he kept hidden so his father wouldn't find it. He had about two grand from selling, and now he was fucked on that endeavor. He would have to find a way to make quick cash some other way.

A lamppost flickered as he walked down the grimy street that would lead him home. He shoved a hand in his pocket and calmed his breathing. He pushed past the run-down fence that wrapped around their property. He was not surprised to find the door unlocked. The television blared from the living room, signaling his dad was either awake or passed out in his favorite chair.

He did his best to creep quietly past the living room to get to the bathroom. The floorboard creaked under his weight, giving away his arrival. He heard the noise from the television immediately dissipate.

"Son?" His father grumbled.

"Yeah, it's just me, dad."

His father walked into the hallway dressed in nothing but sweat pants. His strong set shoulders reminded Sandor that even though he had more mass than his father, he could still put up a fight.

He had a beer in his hand and raised it to his lips, taking in Sandor's frazzled self. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"I fell into a rose bush," he said without hesitation. Technically, he wasn't lying.

The sound of his father chugging his beer filled the room for a matter of moments before he crushed the can. He gazed at Sandor like he didn't believe a word he just said.

"How does one fall into a rose bush, son?" A dark brow raised high on his forehead, his blue eyes holding him with contempt.

"I wasn't paying attention. I ate shit on my skateboard and landed in a bunch of bushes filled with thorns."

Sandor watched as his father pondered the lie, trying to find if there was any truth to what he was saying. "I told you if you can't ride that thing, then get rid of it. If you get any broken bones, you're going to be letting those heal on your own," he said with a sneer, gesturing towards the bathroom. "Go clean up."

He turned on his heels, making his way into the kitchen. Sandor didn't stick around. He headed straight to the bathroom, turning the light on. He was almost inside until he heard the creak of a door. He gazed over his shoulder to see hair white as silk peeking out from behind the door.

"Anne, I can see you," he whispered, not wanting their dad to come and yell at the both of them.

She crept out from behind the door, and her blue eyes peered to her right to ensure that their dad was nowhere in sight. Sandor's heart clenched, seeing her have to live in fear of what their father might do next. He wanted her to be happy and fearless of what life had to offer. This town would only hold her back. Once he was eighteen, he would get them as far away from here as he could.

Once she saw the coast was clear, she visibly relaxed and turned her attention back to him. His sister was his complete opposite in all aspects. She was a perfect mix of their mom and dad with hair so blonde it looked white. Their mom's eyes were green like a meadow, whereas their dads were so blue they were piercing.

Sandor wasn't quite sure how the hell he came to be. His hair was pitch-black, eyes a strange silver-grey color, and he was an ugly bastard due to the burns that marred the left side of his face. However, his sweet little sister thought him to be handsome all the same. She was the only one who could look upon his face without disgust.

Her face morphed into one of shock now that she was able to see him up close, the light showcased the brutality of his cuts.

"Sandor," she whimpered, reaching out with a trembling hand. She placed it on his arm, causing him to wince due to how fresh the wounds were. She tore her hand away, holding it close to her chest.

"I'm fine," he assured her, mussing her hair up.

"You look like hell."

He chuckled softly. "You're too young to curse, Anne."

Her lips turned into a pout. She crossed her arms over her chest as she pinned Sandor with an annoyed look. "I'm thirteen."

"Isn't that young?"

Her scowl deepened with his sarcastic tone. "We're both teenagers, Sandor. If I'm young, so are you."

He clicked his tongue. "Touché, sis."

Anne's face softened. He could practically feel the sadness pouring off of her in waves. She tugged at the end of her sleeve, eyes cast down at her feet. "Are you in trouble?"

His heart seized to exist for a split second before it began an unsteady staccato. He lowered onto his haunches. He gripped her biceps, begging without speaking for her to look at him. It killed him inside that he was bringing her this kind of grief. He was supposed to be protecting her, and he only felt like he kept fucking her life up even more.

"You don't need to worry about the shit I get myself into. I'm going to keep you safe no matter what."

Her eyes looked up, sad, and imploring. "You can't protect me forever."

He clenched his jaw, and a sick feeling settled over him at the thought of something happening to her because of his actions. "I may not be able to protect you for the rest of your life, but I have the power to do so now. That means I'm not going anywhere."

"You're in trouble. I know it." Her voice rose a notch before she took a calming breath and began to speak softer. "You haven't ridden a skateboard since you sprained your wrist and had to hide it from dad for months. What happened to you?"

"Now isn't the time for this conversation. I need to patch myself up, but I promise on my life that I will tell you the truth. Just let me shower off all this grime, okay?"

She worried her bottom lip for a moment and then finally nodded in agreement. Sandor kissed her forehead and watched as she went back into her room, the door shutting on a quiet click.

Sandor released a sigh of relief. He went into the bathroom and locked himself inside. He gripped either side of the sink, forcing his eyes to the damage inflicted on his face. He looked fucking hilarious, a bunch of tiny red marks scattered over tan skin. As if he needed more reason for the kids at school to make fun of him.

It didn't help that he was a 6'6 giant built with the body of a football player. He didn't play sports, making his body go to waste as the coach liked to put it. His closet didn't consist of many colors, either. At a school where the preps made the rules, he was deemed a loser for his lack of fashion. 

It was easy to guess his status with his absolute disdain towards everything those fucks seemed to enjoy. They were rich kids that had everything they wanted handed to them on a silver plate. They saw his discount clothes and knew he was just another miserable fuck that didn't belong at their school.

It was a public school for fuck's sake, and somehow it became a high school for every single rich kid known to man. He knew he didn't belong, but there was no way Sandor would quit school now that he was so close to graduating and getting his sister away from this hell-hole.

He just had to keep his head low and stay alert for any signs of danger. The MC club would be searching for him day and night. They had a vague idea of what he looked like too. He was sure they would be able to find him with a limited amount of information. He stuck out like a sore thumb in this town.

Sandor turned the water on and waited for it to turn warm. He fisted the back of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He let it fall unceremoniously to the floor. He kicked his shoes and socks off and rid himself of his pants. He stepped under the beam of water, the warmth of it made him flinch as it pounded down upon every cut.

Dirt and blood swirled down the drain reminding him that he was fucked.

If he made it out alive, he would be surprised.

After cleaning up, he went to his bedroom, pulling on a pair of sweats and snuck into his sister's room before their dad could catch him doing so. She sat staring out the window. Her knees pulled to her chest, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"Hey," he said, taking a seat at the edge of her bed.

She remained gazing at the trees swaying in the wind. "Are you going to die?"

Anne had never been one to beat around the bush with him. Still, the comment caught him off guard. He was left flabbergasted, unsure of how he was supposed to answer such a critical question. He didn't know if he was going to die or not, and he didn't want to lie to her.

"I did something stupid, Anne, something that got me into loads of trouble. I don't know if I'm going to survive this, but I'm going to try. Above all, I'm going to keep you safe."

"Who cares about keeping me safe? You're the one that is going to wind up hurt or dead," she hissed, whipping her head in his direction, eyes full of raw fury. "I can't live without you, Sandor. You're my brother. I need you in my life."

He clasped his hands together, hanging his head low, knowing she was right. "I'm going to find a way out of this."

"And what if you don't?"

"Then, at least I tried. I'm not going to give up, Anne. I just need you to know that I love you so much, and whatever may happen to me, you will be just fine without me. You have a bright future, and I know you will become a doctor."

Anne dropped off of her little perch and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll try too. I'll try my best to protect you, brother."

His lip wobbled, emotion clogged his throat at how confident she sounded. In her brain, she truly believed she could protect him. It broke his heart that he had dragged his baby sister into his problems. It could cost them both their lives.

Sandor would have to face the club eventually, see if he could strike some kind of deal with them. The thought terrified him to no end. All he knew how to use were his fists. He hardly knew how to wield a knife or even a gun. Those guys were trained. They could end his life in mere seconds if he didn't play things smart.

He wrapped his arms around Anne. He blocked out all the things he would have to handle in the coming weeks and remembered what he was fighting for.

This was all for Anne.

¤


	2. Come Crashing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy <3

_**Every time I look in your eyes** _  
_**I see lightning** _  
_**Cover me when there's nowhere to hide** _  
_**You come crashing** _  
_**Give me chaos when there's nothing inside** _  
_**Pull me into your untamed sky** _  
_**Every time I look into your eyes** _  
_**You come crashing** _

The sound of an alarm rang in the small space of his room. It signaled another shitty day was about to start.

Sandor wearily opened his eyes and let out a sigh. It would be an even shittier day due to the fact he had to go back to school. It was his last year, thankfully. Still, the thought of spending another three-hundred and something days around people he despised didn't sound like his idea of a good time.

Sandor rolled out of bed, walking over to his dresser, he yanked it open and grabbed a pair of black jeans. He tugged them on, never being the type to enjoy the constriction of boxers, so he usually went without. With rushed movements, he pulled on socks, his combat boots quickly following as he headed across the hall to brush his teeth.

Anne already stood fully dressed, hair in neat curls as she brushed her teeth. A blonde brow quirked as she took in his haggard appearance, the array of cuts upon his skin already starting the process of scabbing over.

Wordlessly, he grabbed his toothbrush, putting a glob of toothpaste on it. He joined Anne's side as they both brushed their teeth in the small space of the bathroom.

Surprisingly, the wounds didn't look as funny as they did last night. They were now faint lines that were still noticeable but not to the point where people would need to say anything.

The real problem was the shaggy mess he called hair. He liked keeping it long, but he needed some type of disguise. They hadn't seen his scar; so hopefully, cutting his hair wouldn't be a complete waste of his time.

Anne finished up before Sandor returning to her bedroom until he's ready to go. After he finished brushing his teeth, he took his clippers out from the cabinet hanging above the sink. His hair was either going to turn out decent or fucked.

Sandor turned on the clippers, swallowing hard at the soft whirring sound they emitted. He shut the door taking a deep breath and brought the clippers to the side of his head. With a steady hand, Sandor shaved both sides of his head and managed to cut the back without fail or so he hoped. He set the clippers down, taking out a pair of styling scissors and trimmed the hair that he left longer on top.

Finally, he was done and forced his eyes up to see if he did a good job. He was surprised to see he hadn't done horribly. There was a small layer of hair that covered the sides of his head, and the top was slightly longer. He ran his fingers over both sides, finding the thin layer to be smooth and soft. The hair on top of his head was still shaggy and suited his personality.

Satisfied with his haircut, he disposed of the remaining hair into the trash can and quickly changed into a shirt. He grabbed the notebook and pen that he brought to school. He didn't need all the other trivial shit that everybody seemed to think they needed at school.

Sandor found Anne waiting patiently for him in the kitchen where two brown sacks sat on the counter. A toothy grin appeared on her face.

"I made you lunch," she exclaimed proudly.

"You're an angel, kid," he said, grabbing his lunch, hunching over to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"You cut your hair, why?"

"I thought it was time to shake things up," he joked, returning to his full height and ushered her out the door before they wound up being late.

"You liked your hair. You said you'd never cut it."

"Well, I guess some things change." They strolled down the street side by side. Sandor couldn't help but scan the street; fear itched at his spine, threatening to consume him. The paranoia he was experiencing was overwhelming.

Sandor did not want to live his life in fear. He didn't want to worry about facing death.

Anne's middle school was across the street from his high school, making it easy for him to drop her off every day. He hugged her goodbye and watched her walk through the doors before he turned to walk over to the last place he wanted to be.

The immediate sneers from turned-up noses had him biting down a growl. These ignorant fucks didn't know him or what he went through day in and day out. He was sure daddy and mommy never beat them into obedience or for pure desire to see them in pain.

Sandor clutched his lunch tighter in his hand as he made his way through the doors of hell. The roar of hundreds of teenagers talking over one another was the first thing that greeted him. He kept his head down as he began the trek to his locker, prepared to avoid all eye contact. All he could see were shoes knowing everybody would steer clear of him.

Sandor had heard rumors that people said if they touched him, they would become a pathetic loser too.

So, it was to his surprise when he collided with somebody. The unprepared onslaught had him losing his balance. Sandor felt someone much smaller than him gasp as their hands landed on his chest in the attempt to ensure he wouldn't crush them.

Sandor's instincts kicked in, and he abandoned the items in his hands, grabbing the waist of the person in front of him. He ended up landing hard on one palm, managing to hold his weight off the person beneath him while ensuring they didn't break their head open. The pain that radiated through his knees when he hit the linoleum floor was excruciating. He held back the slur of curse words he wanted to shout.

Sandor was breathing hard as he peered down at the person beneath him and immediately felt disdain creep over him. The girl beneath him had made his life a living hell since they first met in freshman year. She was a first-class bully wrapped in a pretty package.

She glowered back at him, bright blue eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Her red hair splayed out in a halo around her face. Her slim, freckled neck stirred up a feeling in him that he abhorred.

Sansa Stark.

She was one of the rich, preppy kids. Ever since he could remember, she had worn nothing but fancy clothes and was a snobby little brat that spread rumors behind his back for the fun of it.

Sandor wanted to hate her, but she was so fucking pretty. With her heart-shaped face and button nose, it made her appear innocent, nothing like the vixen she indeed was.

Sansa knew she was beautiful. She used it to her advantage plenty of times to run from the things she had said. Sansa was a coward, plain and simple. She would never be the type to fess up to her wrongdoings.

Her eyes fell to her hands, still planted on his chest. He swore he felt her grip the solid muscle that lay there before she yanked them away as if she had been burned.

"Get off of me you scarred freak," she bit out. Sandor gladly obliged her request with a sneer of his own.

The halls had grown quiet. All eyes were on their interaction, waiting to see if anything newsworthy would happen. Sandor kept his mouth shut, casting his gaze away from her, not wanting her to see just how much she affected him.

Girls like her didn't go for guys like him. He should hate her for the things she had said and done to him, yet, for some fucking reason, she was the star of every-single-one of his fantasies.

Sandor shook the image of seeing all that pale flesh writhing beneath him and moved around the temptress. He continued his path to his locker, finding it without fail that time around. Quickly, he shoved the lunch inside and headed to class, feeling the eyes that shot daggers into the back of his skull. As if she had the right to hate him like she did. She never looked him straight in the eyes. She would always find a point on his face to stare at that allowed her to avoid his scars.

 _Coward_.

∞

Classes seemed to drag on. By the time the last period rolled around, Sandor was at the end of his rope. To top it all off, the ice queen herself happened to be in his class looking pristine as ever in a short denim skirt that showcased all her skin. The white top she wore revealed a sliver of her midsection, dragging his attention to the spot for much too long. At their school, there were no dress codes. The guys seemingly had no problem with that.

Sandor slumped down into his chair, located in the back. It was usual for him to do so due to the fact he towered over most everyone. Sandor would draw too much attention to himself if he sat in the front. Also, at the same time he'd be blocking someone's view of the board. It would be a lose-lose situation that he didn't care to find himself in.

The teacher walked in, a man in his mid-forties with a thick beard and a full head of dark hair. He was obviously in shape. Sandor watched as every girl in the room swooned over the man. They wanted someone who they could call daddy, get money from, but also have the added on benefit of screwing a man fifteen years their senior.

To Sandor, they all had daddy issues, but who was he to talk, so did he.

The man's voice was deep and stern when he talked. He reiterated the rules of his class so that they all understood he meant business.

The first assignment was to write a summary of where they wanted to be two years from now. Sandor should have known that a creative writing class was going to test his patience. He was no poet. Words had never come naturally to him. Put any math equation in front of him, and he would solve it with no issue. Writing and him just didn't work.

All the other kids were already scribbling away, their perfect lives all planned out. Sandor stared at the piece of blank paper before him for what felt like hours until he finally put pencil to paper and wrote the truth.

It was simple.

Two years from now, he wanted to be alive, and he wanted to see his sister chasing her dream.

That was it.

The bell rang loud in the classroom. Mr. Carpenter told the class there would be no homework for now but that they should all be prepared. The class distributed their papers at the front. Per usual, he was the last one to file out of the room. He immediately headed over to where Anne patiently waited for him and hoped that everything would work out in his favor.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3


	3. Up down

**__**

**_Through the glass, I lose myself in the darkest deep_ **   
**_Time is just a memory with its sun's on me_ **

**_Oh it's a mad mad world I'm drowning in_ **   
**_Does anybody know how to start again?_ **   
**_Tick tock don't stop I'm breathing_ **

Sansa's heart thundered in her chest, but she knew her face was a mask of pure calm. People asked her if she was okay as she passed. She responded with a bubbly smile, waving them off with a polite 'she was fine.'

She hadn't even fallen hard. The brute had caught her before she had broken her head open in front of the whole school.

She clenched her fists, remembering with utter disdain how solid he had felt beneath her hands. His heart had beat a steady tempo; warmth exuded through the material of his shirt. All she had wanted to do was bask in that feeling.

Sansa didn't understand why she had felt safe in his grasp. It was beyond her knowledge and wasn't exactly something she wanted to ponder further.

She had known Sandor Clegane since freshman year. When she first saw him, she understood he didn't fit in. He towered over everybody. His body rivaled most of the Varsity players she had already gotten to see due to summer cheerleading practice.

Sandor was tan, his mob of dark hair long and shaggy. Then there was that gnarly burn that took up the left side of his face, erasing the brow that should have been there. It had scared her. He reminded her of the monster she believed lived in her closet when she was a little girl. Yet, when she had taken a closer look at the unscarred side, she noticed he had unconventionally handsome features. He had sharp cheekbones and a jaw that looked like it was made out of marble. In simple terms, he was rugged and screamed bad boy.

Her instincts had yelled for her to stay far away from him, just to leave him alone. He wasn't worth the time or effort of picking on. He was too big. Dangerous to the point he could probably snap her neck without breaking a sweat, and yet, she decided to ignore her gut feeling.

Sansa did what she did best and conspired a plan to humiliate the giant. She gathered up a couple of friends and did the oldest book in the trick. In the cafeteria, one of her football friends ran into him, causing all the contents that consisted of pudding, spaghetti, and juice to spill all over her victim.

The entire cafeteria had exploded into laughter. Harry had tried to play it off like it was an accident patting Sandor on the shoulder as he walked away from the scene.

She remembered how Sandor stood quiet and unmoving, staring down at his wasted lunch, the roar of the cafeteria seemed not to faze him at all. Silently, he moved past the tables where people pointed and laughed and grabbed some napkins from the sympathetic lunch lady. The cafeteria went silent as a church in session when he began to clean up the mess. Placing the tray back where it belonged he threw his trash away and exited the cafeteria with his head held high, eyes cast forward.

It had caused her heart to skip a beat.

Sansa couldn't stop picking on him as the years continued. It was too easy to do shit to him because he never did anything back. The years wore on, and more scars began to mark his skin, but nobody said anything. Nobody tried to help him.

She didn't care to find out what was happening in his home life. All she cared about was making sure his school life was a living nightmare. With everything she did to him, Sandor hardly showed even a slight emotion to what he felt about her.

Sometimes he stared in disgust and sneered at her, but even then, it was a slight show of emotion, nothing grand. She wanted to see him explode. Sansa craved what he would look like angry and finally at the end of his rope.

Sansa knew what he thought of a girl like her. She was a rich, goody-two-shoes in his eyes. He probably thought she had everything on a golden platter. He couldn't be more wrong. She lived with a mother that kept her on a strict diet so that she wouldn't gain weight, four rowdy siblings, and a step-father who had only looked at her sideways more and more now that she was older. Her family may be well-off due to the money her father left behind, but it still didn't mean her life was perfect either.

She and Sandor were from opposite sides of the tracks. She understood how everyone would view them if they were ever to get together. Her family would immediately cast her aside. She would have nothing. Her mom would think she was a disappointment. She couldn't afford to let that happen all for a guy that didn't have a dime to his name.

Still, she couldn't erase the image of how he would look above her, how handsome he was even with the mass of burns on the left side of his face. His eyes that changed from silver to grey always drew her in.

Sansa noticed he had cut his hair. It was short on the sides and longer on the top, the hair there in adorable curls as if he didn't have time to brush it in the morning. Dozens of marks crisscrossed over his skin as if he fell in a thorn bush. Even that didn't deter how much she had wanted him to kiss her at that moment.

It was a thought that burned her from the inside out. She had felt the need to douse herself in cold water.

Sansa didn't have time for those nonsensical thoughts as she hurried to her first class forgetting for the time being about the tall brute. That was until they had last period together. It was how she would have to end her school days now, seeing a guy that made her insides get all tied together in knots.

As always, he chose a seat in the back towards the window, stormy eyes scanning the trees swaying in the slight breeze. Sansa found herself becoming mesmerized by him. She wanted to know what was going on inside his head, but the moment he cast his gaze forward, she was acting like she was listening to her friend.

The teacher walked in, and she watched as all the girls swooned over him. He wasn't that hot. She had to suppress an eye roll at the silly notion that these idiots thought they would get with him. When class finally ended, she didn't stick around. She grew tired of how much Jeyne was going on about gossip that she could give two shits about. The last thing she wanted was to get held talking to her about pointless things.

Sansa was at her locker when she saw Sandor striding down the hall. He walked with a purpose. She found herself slamming her locker shut hurrying after him. She kept her head low, doing her best to stay inconspicuous following him out of the high school. Thankfully, everyone was in a hurry to get home and didn't call her name, giving the jig away.

Sandor looked both ways before crossing the street illegally, not caring to wait as he dashed towards the middle school across the road. A young girl with blonde hair ran up to him, jumping into his arms. He lifted her with ease as she wrapped her legs around his waist. When he turned, Sansa noticed the vibrant smile etched across his face, the familiarity of the two hinting that they must be brother and sister. The little girl was rambling onto him about school, most likely, and he was listening avidly.

He didn't put her down while he began to make the trek down the street. Sansa doesn't know what was wrong with her, but she began to follow him. If he turned around, he would see her. The little girl noticed me but thought nothing of me as she continued to talk to her brother. They reached a run-down neighborhood that made her cringe. It was dangerous for her to be walking alone down this way, and still, she followed.

They arrived at a house that looked worse for wear. If it were to rain, it looked like the ceiling would cave in. The paint was a disgusting yellow color that had stains all over it with windows that seemed like they had been broken multiple times. The front lawn was mostly dirt with dead weeds adorning every inch. She felt a pang in her heart that this was where they had to live.

Sandor put his sister down, and she scurried into the house. He remained where he was until his sister was safe inside. Before she could process what was happening, he whirled around on her. His arm was cocked back, the other blocking his cheek. She screamed, seeing realization quickly dawn on him. She raised her hands in surrender. Her heart had felt like it was going to explode out of her chest.

"What the fuck?" He growled, lowering his fists, giving her a deadly look mixed with bewilderment.

She didn't say a word. Instead, she turned around in the hopes that he would forget she was ever there in the first place. She began to walk away as quickly as she could. His heavy steps resounded off the concrete, a large, calloused hand wrapped around her bicep yanking her to face him.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Were you following me?" He snarled, demanding she say something to him.

The hand that gripped her bicep was relentless. It was so big that his fingers were practically touching. She could feel just how much heat he emitted from the simple touch. It caused her to feel dizzy with something she didn't want to feel towards him. Her eyes locked on the gnarly scar marring his face wanting to know how he obtained such an injury at such a young age.

Finally, she gathered her wits, finding it in her to be the snarky bitch she always was.

"Of course I wasn't following you," she blatantly lied, trying to pull her arm away. It proved to be futile.

He scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "This is not the place for a haughty girl like you, Sansa."

The way her name rolled off his tongue heated her skin, starting from the tips of her toes spreading to her face. She could only hope he couldn't tell what he did to her just by opening his mouth.

"I'm allowed to go where I please. I don't need some poor loser telling me what to do."

His eyes darkened. He seemed to realize he was still holding onto her and let go of her as if he had just touched the top of a burning stove. Raw energy surged around him. Sansa shivered involuntarily in his presence. He scanned the area as if searching for any signs of danger.

"As I said before, you don't belong here. You should go." His voice was deep, husky with a slight rasp to it. It was a voice, unlike anything she had heard before. It suited him.

Sandor towered over her, forcing her to crane her neck back to take a good look at him. The shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders and a sturdy chest. It wrapped around his biceps that were straining the fabric. Thick veins raced through his arms, drawing her attention to the assortment of scars that marred his tan skin. It was easy to see he had not lived a comfortable life so far, and she had only made his situation so much worse.

Sansa shook the feeling of remorse away and stood her ground. "You think that little girl belongs here?"

It was crazy how quick he snapped at the mention of his sister. He reached out, his arm like a whip as he grasped her jaw in a vice hold. His thumb dug into her cheek, his fingers a steel cage that she had no chance of escaping.

She gasped as he leaned forward, his entire body language screamed danger. She inhaled sharply, never being the type to face him eye to eye, she was forced to do so now. "If you ever even mention my sister again I will fucking make you regret it," he said in a low tone that demanded obedience.

She was terrified, but she had never been the type to hold her tongue when she knew she should. "Give me a break. What do you think you could do to me?"

"I'm a man who has a good hundred and something pounds over you. I'm sure I could figure something out."

The comment made her scowl at him, watching as his jaw clenched. "So, your little sister is a touchy subject, huh? Who would have thought that the brooding giant has a soft spot for someone else? I didn't think it could be plausible."

"I'm not going to repeat this, go the fuck home and leave my sister out of this sick game you enjoy playing with me. I don't care if you berate me and make my life a living hell, but if you bring my sister into this, I will destroy you. Do you understand?"

"Sure. I understand."

She could tell he didn't believe her and he shouldn't. Now that she had this tidbit of information, she had every intention of using it against him. There was honestly nothing Sandor Clegane could do to destroy her.

He let go of her and turned back to his house. Sansa noticed his sister peeking through the window. She scurried away when their eyes met. Sandor marched up to the front door and slammed it behind him. She heard a man yell at him.

Sansa decided it was time to get the hell out of dodge and hurry home.

∞

"I am not ready for practice tomorrow," Jeyne whined, fixing her mascara in the bathroom mirror.

"I still don't know why you're a cheerleader if you hate it so much," Sansa mumbled, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She fussed with the tiny braids she had put in her hair this morning that so far, she had gotten a lot of compliments.

Jeyne scowled at her through the mirror. "There are so many hot guys on the football team, Sansa. The real question is, how have you denied Daario asking you out so many times? He's the hottest guy on the team!"

Sansa rolled her eyes at the sudden topic change. "He's not my type."

Jeyne whirled around to face Sansa. She placed her palms on the sink pinning Sansa with a look of confusion. "What is your type?"

"I don't know. The whole cliché tall, dark, and handsome, I guess."

"Daario is tall, he's dark, and he's freaking handsome as all hell!"

Sansa worried her bottom lip. An image of all Sandor's tan skin came to mind, instantly her heart skipped a beat. "I mean, it's hard to explain what my type is. I just want to be with a guy that I enjoy being with."

"We all want that, Sansa, but you still have to have some basic idea of a guy you would date at school."

In Sansa's mind's eye, she saw his grey eyes staring down at her, burly body so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him, and a calloused hand wrapped tight around her bicep. Sandor, the guy that haunted her every thought would be the only one she would want at this point in life. He was only seventeen, but that body was all man.

She wasn't a virgin. She had been an idiot and given that up to a guy that she thought she could trust. It turned out that he fucked his way through half the cheerleading squad while dating her. All except for Jeyne, who told him she would never betray Sansa, especially not for an ugly piece of shit. Thankfully, Sansa had been smart when it came to protection.

The thing was she could have been a bitch to all those girls. It wouldn't have been worth her time, though. Instead of kicking all of them into the dirt for being dirty little whores for going behind her back- Sansa chose to forgive them and move on with her life. They did well as a team and that wouldn't be ruined for any guy.

Or so she told herself she would never ruin her perfect track record for a guy.

A hand waved frantically in front of Sansa's face was what brought her back down to earth to see Jeyne staring at her as if she were insane. She might be at this point. She had followed him home like a damn stalker. If she could be honest with herself, she'd let the guy do whatever he wanted to her.

"Hello, earth to Sansa? The bell rang. I need to get to class."

"I'm sorry," she said, a little lost at how she had gotten so far gone in her thoughts. Sansa pressed a palm over her heart, nodded, and shooed Jeyne off with the other telling her to get to class. Jeyne was puzzled and slightly worried but eventually hurried off.

Sansa exhaled a loud sigh looking at herself in the mirror, seeing a slight sheen of sweat over her skin and a flush to her cheeks.

She clutched at her chest, trying to make the horrible feeling go away. It was suffocating.

She was helpless no matter how hard she tried to shake it off. They would never work; she reminded herself. They were too different. It would only be a pointless endeavor that would end in heartbreak. It was something she couldn't afford now that she was so close to the finish line of getting as far as she could from her family.

She gathered herself together and headed to sixth period. She walked in ten minutes late to have all eyes drift over to her. Her teacher was in the middle of his lecture but stopped talking and crossed his arms over his chest the moment she walked in.

"Miss. Stark, is it?" He asked.

"Yes, sir," she said, straightening a bit, putting on her winning smile. Years upon years of manners had been instilled in her. She knew how to get her way if she just behaved.

"Is there a reason for your tardiness?"

The lie fell off her tongue so quickly it surprised even her. "I was feeling a bit under the weather and needed to cool off. I won't make a habit of this."

His blue eyes scanned over her before meeting her gaze again. "I was telling the class I have paired all of you off into partners for an ongoing project the two of you will work on for the remainder of the year."

Sansa's brows drew in confusion. What kind of project could entail two people having to work for a whole year together? He seemed to notice her concern and let out a little chuckle.

"I've found this project turns out quite fun for the two people involved. They may become close friends in the end or turn out mortal enemies, but all in all, the project requires you to write a story together. I will be handing out the syllabus for it at the end of class."

"Have the pairs already been announced?"

He nodded. "Yes, your partner will be Sandor."

It was if she had been knocked upside the head by a bowling ball. She let out a nervous laugh. "You're kidding, right?"

"Why would I be kidding?" He asked, quirking a brow at her.

The tension in the room intensified. Sansa knew the reason why. Her eyes drifted to him. She could see his jaw clenching from where she stood. His arms were across his burly chest, staring at the board like he wanted to punch it.

"I'm sorry. I was just confused," Sansa murmured. "May I sit?"

"Yes. Now, let's get back to business."

On her way to her chair, Sansa noticed the sympathetic looks she received from her classmates. She forced a smile onto her face, taking her seat, ignoring the thundering of her heart. The class continued, but Sansa was hardly there. She couldn't get over the fact she was going to have to be in the same proximity as him for a whole year.

There was no way in hell the arrangement would work.

They would kill each other or…

 _No_. Sansa shook her head. No, no way would that happen in a million years.

_He hated her._

_They hate each other._

A syllabus was handed to her shaking Sansa out of her reverie. "You should immediately get the contact information of your partner and begin planning so that you guys are not rushing through it in the end."

Sansa glanced over at Sandor. He was staring out the window, a normal thing for him to do. Time seemed to pass by so quickly that when the bell rang, she jumped a mile high in her seat. She watched as others began to get their partner's phone number. She bit down hard on her lower lip gathering her strength.

Sansa swallowed down her pride and strode over to his desk. Other students began to file out as she approached him.

"I guess we should exchange numbers," she said softly. His head snapped up. Annoyance washed over his features instantly.

"I guess we should," he grumbled, pulling out an old flip phone and waited expectantly.

"Oh, sorry." She told him her number, and he typed it out quickly. Her phone dinged a moment later with an incoming text.

"You can just text me when you want to work on this."

"We should be a little bit more organized than that. I have cheerleading practice, so most libraries will be closed by the time I'm done. We'll meet up three times a week, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday at 7 pm. You can just come to my place, or we can go to yours."

He stared at her with a deadpan look. "You want to work at each other's places?"

"Is that a problem?"

Sandor laughed a deep sound, almost like the snarling of dogs; it made her toes curl. "I just didn't think you'd want me anywhere near your place."

"Trust me, the last thing I want is to be anywhere near you, but I can't afford to get a low grade in this class. So, I guess we have to just work this out and get along for the time being."

"You and I will never get along," he stated matter-of-factly.

Sansa placed a hand on her hip, catching his eyes drift to the spot. They lingered, and she found a weird sense of gratification in the act.

"Perhaps, but I don't give a shit if we do or don't. We're going to work on this stupid story, and that's the end of it. Does that schedule work for you or not?" 

"I got my little sister to look after."

"Then I can go to your place if you want."

He drummed his fingers against his biceps, barking out a disbelieving laugh. "Trust me. That won't work."

"We have to finish this project whether we like it or not. The only way that is going to happen is if we plan. So, decide what you want. At least if I'm at your place, your little sister will be there."

"It's dangerous for you to be walking around that area so late at night."

"I can handle myself, Sandor."

"Yeah, you think you can take me on?" He growled, a tic starting under his right eye.

Sansa gritted her teeth, needing to steer away from any thoughts of having those arms wrapped around her holding her down. "We're straying off-topic. If you're so concerned about my well being, then you can come to pick me up from practice. I saw the car."

"It's my dad's."

"What time does he get home from work?"

"Five, but it doesn't matter. My dad doesn't let me touch his car."

She sighed heavily. "You're making this quite difficult."

"I'll fucking ask him," he snapped, standing to his towering height. "I'll let you know tomorrow what he says."

Without another word, he left, and she was left able to breathe right again finally.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3


	4. The Wolves Are Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying so far! <3

**_This world is slowing down_ **   
**_How can I fight it?_ **   
**_How can I?_ **   
**_Listen when there’s no sound_ **   
**_The wolves are out_ **   
**_Yes, the wolves are out_ **

"Something is bothering you," Anne remarked, walking beside Sandor on the trail home. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder, always having the feeling someone was following me—someone who wasn't full of red hair that he wanted to see wrapped around his fist.

Sandor had to find the MC before they came searching for him and found that he had a little sister. A little sister that they would use as collateral just to hurt him. If anything ever happened to her, he would end himself. There would be no justification in living if she didn't get to as well.

"I have to ask dad if I can borrow the car for a couple of days every week for the next year. I'm a little nervous."

"Why do you have to do that?"

Sandor kicked a rock across the sidewalk. "I have to work on a project, and my partner doesn't get out of practice until seven. I don't want her walking the streets at night."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a broad smile form on Anne's face. "And you think you're not a total sweetheart," she giggled, jabbing his side.

Sandor wrapped his arm around her shoulders, messing up her perfectly coiffed hair. She swatted at him, and they broke out into a fit of laughter. Anne was the only one who could make him smile and laugh. He tended to stay away from having friends. They were only distractions. He needed to stay sharp to keep his sister out of danger.

Upon returning home, Sandor's heart sank to his gut at the knowledge of what he had to do. He told Anne to go straight to her room if their father lost his cool. The last thing he wanted was for her to be in the crossfire of their father's rage.

Sandor grabbed a beer out of the fridge and walked into the living room. His father didn't acknowledge Sandor's presence, but he noticed his fist tightened around his can. No doubt he had heard Sandor walk in.

"Hey dad," he said, steeling his nerves.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Sandor caught his attention by handing him the beer. He stared at it before taking it and cracking it open. Blue calculating eyes landed on him, trying to figure out what Sandor was after.

"I have a project I have to work on for the next year until school is finished. I was wondering if I could borrow the car a couple of nights a week to escort my partner here and back home."

His father's face set in a harsh glare. "Why the fuck do you have to drive them around like you're a damn chauffeur?"

"It's a girl, dad. I don't want her walking these streets at night."

Sandor noticed the shift in his gaze. It made him feel sick to his stomach. "Ah, I see. It's a girl. I'm guessing she's a hot piece of ass, huh? You think you'll get your cock wet if you do that for her?"

Sandor's face flared with heat; he was sure his tan skin had become bathed in red.

"She's my partner. It's dangerous around here at night. I don't want anything bad to happen to her. That's it," he faltered, his chest beginning to rise and fall a bit faster. A tell-tale sign his father had gotten under his skin with his perverted comment.

He laughed mirthlessly and took another swig of his beer. "You don't want to fuck her?"

Sandor's fists tensed where they lay at his sides. "I don't have time for a girl, dad."

"Are you telling me you're gay?"

"No. I'm just saying I don't go around thinking about fucking chicks all day long. I have better things to be thinking about," Sandor retorted, knowing full well the snarky comment wasn't going to go over too well with him.

As he predicted, his father was on his feet trying to go toe to toe with him but wobbled in the process. He gained his balance and stood before him. Sandor towered over his dad's sturdy frame, but he would still take every punch like he always did because if he were to retaliate, his dad would go straight for Anne.

"You want the car, son?"

Sandor didn't know if it was a rhetorical question, so he kept his mouth shut and, in return, earned a sharp punch to the gut that made him keel over slightly. He exhaled a harsh sound before inhaling on a ragged breath, preparing for the next onslaught.

"I asked you a question, boy."

"Yes, I would like to borrow the car, please."

He grasped Sandor by the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to his height, and leaned in till the stale stench of beer hit his face. "Are you gonna fuck her tight cunt in the backseat of my car?"

Sandor had the urge to say he wouldn't even fit in the back of that car, let alone inside of a petite girl like Sansa, but he bit his tongue instead. "No."

"I bet you want to. Come on, son, you don't have to lie to your father. Tell me how much you want her."

It scared Sandor how right he was about him wanting her. After all the bullshit she had put him through, he still wanted her panting his name, begging him to do unexplainable things to her.

Sandor lowered his voice to a whisper. He could feel sweat beading at his forehead. "I don't want her, dad."

His hand seized Sandor's throat. "You are a fucking rotten liar, Sandor. I can see it in your eyes, boy. You can't fool me."

"So what if I'm a fucking liar. I'm a pathetic loser with nothing to offer her, and I live with a piece of shit father that can't even take care of his kids properly!"

The rain of fists on his face was welcome.

When he was on the ground covering his face, Sandor took comfort in the strong kicks to his stomach.

The last thing he heard before he passed out cold was his sister yelling. He wished she would have just stayed in her room.

She never did learn.

∞

Sandor woke up the next morning with a bag of peas on his face. No doubt, Anne had patched him up throughout the night.

He glanced at the alarm clock, noticing he had already missed three class periods. He sighed and dragged his body out of bed, forcing himself to get dressed to face the day. Sandor needed to go to every class he had missed and get the homework necessary so he wouldn't flunk the last year he had to spend at that establishment.

Sandor was running to school when he heard the sound of a motorcycle rumbling up the street. He felt his blood turn to ice, slowing his pace but not turning to look at who was passing by him. When they are drifting past him, Sandor caught a glimpse of their vest and the patches that adorned it. He could tell where that cut was from a mile away. Sandor felt panic washing over him, and he was frightened he was going to start hyperventilating. Somehow, he managed to stay calm; that was until they slowed down, cutting their engine off.

The man removed his helmet, placing it on the handlebar and proceeded to get off of his motorcycle. He was tall but not as tall as Sandor. He had a muscular, lean build. Sandor knew the man could take him on in a fight and do some permanent damage. He had intense green eyes that held Sandor's gaze unwaveringly.

Sandor could feel the tendons standing out on his neck due to how tense he was. He flicked his eyes down to the ground and began to move past the man, avoiding all eye contact with him.

"Kid," the man said simply. Sandor froze in his tracks. He stood stock-still, waiting for the man to continue talking. "You live around here?" He asked.

Sandor turned to face him, his hands noticeably trembling. He nodded and remained where he was a decent distance from the man.

The man took out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up before stowing them back in his pocket. The smoke filtered through the air, and he stared at Sandor, waiting for a response.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not familiar with the area. I seem to have gotten myself lost. Think you could help?"

"I could try."

A smile appeared on his face, surprisingly warm. Nothing like Sandor had been expecting. "You see, my crew and I are looking for someone. We found out what school he goes to and were thinking of waiting for him there."

"What's the school called?" Sandor asked, keeping the tremble out of his voice.

"Jackson High."

"I was on my way there. I could show you." Sandor was a dead man walking. They were going to fucking kill him.

"You go to school there? Well, perhaps you may be able to make our lives easier. The guy we are looking for we assume will be quite tall," his green eyes scanned over me. "Tall like you. He has a pretty massive build, so we thought he could be in sports—dark hair and as far as we know tan-skinned. Only one of the crew was able to get that description. Then we began asking around, and well, we found out a name. Sandor Clegane. Do you know him?"

Sandor took a step back. Green eyes strayed to the movement. "I didn't mean to," he whispered and took another step backward.

"You didn't mean to do what, kid?" He questioned, taking a step forward.

"I fucked up. I was trying to make some money, so I could leave when I was eighteen. My dad he abuses me, and I'm sick of it. I didn't know your crew ran that land, or else I would have never been there."

The man took in all the scars that marred Sandor's skin, and the burn on his face caused him to linger. "He did this to you?"

"Better me than my sister," he murmured, wondering if this were the day he would end up in a ditch.

"Ah, you have someone you're protecting, and you're young and naïve. I guess it only makes sense that you didn't know whose turf you were on. Tell me, kid. Will your sister have anyone to protect her when you're gone?"

"No," Sandor whispered. The pain in his heart clogged his throat. He had fucked up so bad, and now his sister would have to grow up without him, fending for herself all on her own. The thought killed him.

"Listen close, kid. You will meet my crew and me a week from today. September 13th, you will meet us on our turf," he asserted, writing something down on a pad of paper he produced out of thin air. "We'll discuss what to do with you over the week, and your fate will be decided then. If you don't show up, just know we know where you live."

He handed Sandor the note. He almost dropped it due to how bad he was shaking. "I'll see you soon, kid."

The man didn't introduce himself. He got back on his bike like nothing ever happened, and rode off, leaving Sandor reeling in his thoughts.

∞

The rest of the day went by in a blur until Sandor was thrown back into reality in English.

"What the hell happened to you?" Fingertips touched his bruised cheek. He wrenched away from the offending object only to see Sansa scanning over his bruises on the right side of his face. She was dressed in a cheerleading uniform that donned their school colors-red and white.

"Nothing," he snarled, sounding like a wounded animal. Heat flooded the length of his body. He had to fight the urge to itch at his skin. Sansa had never dared to touch him before. He had always thought she was afraid of staring at him. That seemed to be an entirely wrong assumption with the way she held his gaze.

She tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear, rolling her eyes like she couldn't be bothered. "Did you talk to your dad?"

 _Leave it to her to get straight to the point_. "Yeah. He won't let me use his car."

"Did he do this to you?"

"Do you give a fuck?" he deadpanned, a tight smile forming on his face.

A cruel, unjustified look morphed her features. "No, I guess I don't care if your daddy is beating you. I just want to ace this project in all honesty. You're just the unlucky part of the whole situation."

"That's what I thought. So, fuck off before everybody sees you talking to the campus loser."

Blue eyes darted to the clock on the wall right above the whiteboard. The class would be starting any minute, the pile of kids that she cared to act fake around would waltz in. She would have never been caught dead around him if it weren't for this damned project that was forcing her to work with him; he already knew that.

"I'll ask my step-dad if I can borrow his ride."

"You couldn't do that from the start, princess?"

"I don't like asking him for things," she replied softly, nothing like her usual snarky self.

"Well, I don't like asking my dad for things either," he muttered. He twirled his pen between his fingers, trying to occupy his mind with anything but the fact she was still conversing with him.

Students began to wander into the classroom. Her friends gave her odd looks as they took their seats. She remained leaning against his desk, worrying her bottom lip in a way that had his gut coiling with heat. She scanned his scars and the black eye that stood out against tan skin. Her hand rose, causing him to swallow hard as her fingers hovered over the tender spot. Suddenly she dropped her hand back to her side as realization dawned over her. A blush stained her fair skin, her cheeks a rosy color. She hurried to her seat, sitting down with grace even though it seemed she was a moment away from losing it.

Sandor didn't know what to make of her. The last thing he needed was her working her way under his skin even more than she already had. If he were even remotely intelligent, he would stay as far as he could from a girl like Sansa. Yet, he knew that would be highly unlikely due to current circumstances.

The truth was, he could be fucking dead within the week for all he knew. The possibility of the MC showing any mercy on him sounded impossible. Working on the project with Sansa would have to remain on the list that was of no importance to him.

Protecting his sister would always be his main priority. If anything, he would at least beg they keep an eye on her if they decide his fate was death. He could only hope that their intentions wouldn't be to cause her any physical harm. He would never find rest in the afterlife knowing something happened to her because he fucked up and wasn't there for her.

"Alright, class, I am going to be handing back the papers you turned in on Monday about where you wanted to be in two years. I will say I received a lot of great answers and some interesting ones as well. This wasn't a big part of your grade, but at the end of the year, we'll come back and see if those goals are still the ones you're striving for."

The teacher began handing out the papers. Sandor was sure he wouldn't receive high marks, but it had been such a silly question to ask in the first place. Not everybody had their lives planned by eighteen.

"Your answer raises some questions," Mr. Carpenter whispered as he handed Sandor his paper. "Still, it has been the most honest one I've received. Just know you're not alone."

Sandor nodded not about to go on about his shitty life and took a look at the paper to see an A+ at the right-hand corner. Involuntarily, his mouth quirked at the side, and he noticed he'd caught the attention of one nosy redhead. Her gaze was indecipherable, so he thought it best to ignore it and allow himself to be excited that he received a high grade on a paper in English.

Anne would be ecstatic. Maybe he could pick up her favorite ice cream to celebrate. Sandor had a few bills on his person that could go to that cause. With that thought in mind, the rest of the class flew by, and he wasted no time today, finding himself out of the room before everybody else.

Sandor was smiling like an idiot, and he was sure it had caught the attention of others, but he could care less. He just wanted to see Anne.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3


	5. Into the Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> If you guys want to say hi, this is my tumblr <3
> 
> [Here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spikeisinspace)
> 
> Much love <3

_**Out of the blue** _  
_**Into the black** _  
_**They give you this** _  
_**But you pay for that** _  
_**Once you're gone** _  
_**You can never come back** _

Sandor arrived at Anne's school to see that she was not where she usually met him. He looked around, confusion knitting his brows, as he continued to search around seeing if today she had chosen a new place to wait for him. The minutes ticked by, and the longer she didn't appear, the more his heart did somersaults inside his chest.

It wasn't usual for her to not be here, and he frantically dialed her number, holding the shitty contraption to his ear. He couldn't help but race through the endless possibilities that could have happened to her.

When she didn't answer, he hung up angrily, and tugged on his hair, doing his best to calm his frantic breathing.

_This can't be happening!_

"Are you okay?" A voice said, breaking through his befuddled mind.

He shouldn't be surprised that the one standing before him was none other than the princess herself. Still, he found himself trying to figure out why she was here when he had something much more concerning to be focusing on.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Obviously, to see if you're okay," she bit out.

He scoffed. "Why the fuck would you want to do that? We hate each other, or have you forgotten? I don't have time for you right now. Don't you have practice or something?"

"Are you always this crude? Do you think by playing this bad boy act that will save you from yourself? Forgive me for giving a shit."

Sandor laughed, but there was no warmth behind it, and he noticed her flinch. He hated how he found some solace in the simple movement.

"Don't act self-righteous now, sweetheart. We both know you only give a shit about your little cliques and, more importantly, yourself."

"You are talking out of your ass! You know _nothing_ about me, so don't act like you do!"

"My sister is missing! I don't have time to worry about your ego right now! Fuck off!"

All the fight drained out of her replaced with a worried expression he didn't think was capable of her.

"Do you think she headed home early for any reason?"

"My sister always waits for me. She would at least text me if she wasn't feeling good and had to go home early. I'm the one who would have to pick her up. My dad wouldn't."

"Maybe she decided to hang out with a friend, and her phone died."

He growled, shoving his through his hair for the millionth time. "I make sure her phone is charged every morning. There is no way that it would have died."

"Well, maybe she's with this friend and doesn't want to be bothered. You should at least check at home first, and I'll be at practice. You can just text me if she's not there, and I'll go check around the area once more."

"Why?"

"Why what?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Why are you helping me?"

A low sigh escaped her. She shrugged, and a tight smile formed upon her delicate face. "I would be worried sick about my sibling too. Plus, I didn't mean what I said about using your sister against you. I wouldn't bring a kid into this. I may be cold, but I'm not heartless."

"Thanks," he muttered, somewhat thankful she would keep her torture limited to only him. He nodded his head at her and sprinted towards home, hoping Sansa would keep an eye out for his baby sister.

Sandor was breathless by the time he arrived home. He threw the front door open, not bothering to close it. His father was nowhere to be found; Sandor didn't take that as a good sign.

"Anne! Anne! Are you here?!" There was no answer. In a matter of seconds, Sandor found himself in the bathroom, throwing up nothing but stomach acid.

He was shaking so bad he felt like he was coming down off a high. He didn't even know what it felt like to be in withdrawal, but he was sure this was pretty close to that feeling. Had he gotten his sister kidnapped? By his father? By the MC? He couldn't even be sure.

Sandor sat outside on the sidewalk, his head in his hands, praying to a God he didn't even believe in, that his sister was safe. Roughly an hour later, he heard the sound of his dad's car approaching. He whipped his head up and was on his feet in a matter of seconds as his dad passed him and parked in the driveway.

Sandor ran to the car, tearing open the passenger door. He looked down to see a visibly shaken Anne staring back at him. He wasted no time in yanking her out of the car and into his arms. Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, and Sandor was unable to stop the onslaught of emotion that took over him. A choked sob escaped him as he dug his face into the side of her neck.

"I'm so sorry," Anne whispered, smoothing her palm over the back of his head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Their dad shouted in disgust. Sandor had nothing in him to tell his dad to leave them alone. He continued to hold his sister close to him.

He heard their dad grumbling under his breath before the sound of the door slammed shut. Sandor put himself back together, he gently pulled away and stared her in the eyes.

"Where were you?"

"Dad picked me up early and took me out for ice cream. I told him I needed to text you, but he took my phone away from me. He knew how much it would hurt you, not knowing where I was. I couldn't even finish the ice cream," she cried and wrapped her arms back around his neck, finding comfort in him now.

"Shh, it's okay. It's not your fault." Sandor lifted her into his arms and walked them back inside.

As long as she was safe, then that was all that mattered to him. For now, he could believe the MC would not come after him or her. They were giving him the chance to go to them, and he was going to have to leave Anne behind. He could only hope he'd come back alive to her.

∞

After Anne fell asleep, Sandor returned to his room. He went to his phone atop his dresser and saw that Sansa had sent him a message.

**_'Hey, I didn't hear back from you. Everything okay?'_ **

Sandor clenched the device in his hand. He didn't understand Sansa. One moment she was the ice queen, and the next, she was sugary sweet. He couldn't keep up with her.

Sandor had never been good at talking to people in general, and girls were a whole other playing field that he couldn't comprehend. He didn't allow himself to get his hopes up and like a girl. Sure, he had found several girls pretty, but that was the extent of his attraction.

Sansa made him feel strange. She made him want things he knew normal teenage boys thought of, things that he didn't allow himself to think about because he felt ashamed to think of women in such a crude way. Still, Sansa had worked her way under his skin, and he couldn't stop imagining what her lips would feel like against his own or how soft she would be beneath his fingertips. He pushed those thoughts away and sent a quick response.

**_'She's fine. She went to get ice cream with our dad.'_ **

He hated how quickly she responded.

**_'Glad to hear. Well, goodnight.'_ **

Sandor shook his head, annoyed by something he couldn't even put into words.

**_'Night.'_ **

He put his phone on the charger and stripped to nothing but his boxers before getting into bed.

Sandor had six more days till he had to meet with the MC. He would give them the money he owed them for selling on their turf and hopefully strike up some kind of deal that would benefit everybody involved. He forced his eyes closed, ready to face his fate.

∞

Sansa sipped on her morning coffee. Her mom had made organic pancakes for breakfast and cut up an assortment of fruits that all sat neatly on the table.

Rickon was playing games on his phone, completely ignoring the food that sat in front of him.

Robb and Jon were talking about sports per usual. They both were in college at this point. Robb was on the soccer team, and Jon was on the rugby team. They often liked to make jokes about the other's sport because in one you could touch the ball and the other you couldn't. Sansa tended to tune out of their conversations pretty quickly.

Bran was telling their mom all about the new science experiment he was working on, and their mom feigned genuine interest.

Arya was calculating Sansa. She had this knack for picking up on things without anything being said. Sansa could tell Arya knew something was off about her.

Typically, Sansa was bright and peppy every morning, never faltering in her act until she was left alone in her room. This morning she didn't feel like putting on an act. She stared down at her pancakes, wondering what Sandor was eating at this very moment if anything at all. He was a big guy, so he had to be eating something, but she saw where he lived. He wasn't eating fluffy pancakes like she was.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Arya muttered, digging into her pancakes with all the finesse of a dog.

"What are you talking about?" Sansa said, putting on her best fake smile.

Arya's hair was brown cut to her chin, spiked out slightly at the ends. She wore a baggy t-shirt and cargo pants with her combat boots. Anyone that looked at her and Sansa side by side would laugh at the idea they were sisters. Arya didn't like people who acted fake. She was all about being true to oneself. So, Sansa wasn't surprised by the deadpan look Arya shot at her due to her forced happiness.

"Don't play me for a fool, sis, something's off about you."

Sansa took another sip of her coffee, ignoring Arya's narrowing eyes. "Nothing is off."

"Sansa saying no more than a few words? Yeah, sure, everything is fine." Arya cast her gaze back to her pancakes, reaching for a strawberry and shoved it into her mouth.

"You're just nosy."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, but I know you all like the back of my hand, unfortunately. I can practically feel your aura, and it is screaming that you're distressed or bothered by something. When has Sansa ever cared about anyone but herself though? Strange."

Sansa glared at Arya, her hands clenching into fists on the table. Her step-father noticed the movement, raising his beady eyes to her. Sansa had always felt that there was something strange about Petyr Baelish, the man her mother married not too long after her father passed. It wasn't until she reached puberty that Sansa realized the way his eyes would linger in places they shouldn't. His once brown hair streaked with grey. He wore his three-piece suit prepared to ruin the lives of innocent people. He was a lawyer for every twisted crook that existed. Criminals knew he would get them off with lesser sentences and, in some cases, even back on the street to go murder and rape. Sansa despised the man. Her mom was an idiot for allowing the man under their roof. Sansa couldn't even sleep with her door unlocked, fearful that he may do something to her if she didn't.

Petyr smiled, and it reminded Sansa of a snake. "Something wrong, sweetie?"

Sansa wanted to throw up at the pet name. She gathered her composure and put her winning smile back on. "I'm fine. I wanted to ask you something."

Petyr noticeably straightened in his chair. Sansa never asked him for anything. She could only hope he wouldn't want anything in return for his kindness. "You can ask me anything, Sansa. You know this."

"I have to work on a project for school. It would only be three nights a week from seven to eight. I have cheerleading practice, so I wanted to know if I could borrow one of your cars so I can go meet up with my partner at his house."

Petyr's eye twitched at the mention of a boy. "You want to use my car to go meet up with a boy?"

The conversation grasped everyone's attention at the table, all sets of eyes on her now. Sansa kept her cool, not allowing any of them to notice a crack in her façade. She would always be the elegant, bubbly, Sansa in front of them. She couldn't allow them to see the other side that Arya got a glimpse at.

"As I said, he is my partner for a project. I would only be going over for that hour, and then I would come straight home."

"There's a lot you can do in an hour, Sansa," Robb jested, behaving more like a teenage boy versus his twenty-two-year-old self. Sansa ignored him, keeping her attention solely on Petyr.

"I can give you his address, and I'll text you when I get there and when I'm heading back."

"Who is this boy?"

Sansa nibbled at her bottom lip. Petyr knew everyone in town from the rich to the poor to the homeless. "Sandor Clegane."

Petyr stood up abruptly. "No. You will not be going over to that boy's house. No way." He walked over to the sink with his plate, rinsing it off before putting it in the dishwasher.

"So, he can come over here then?" Sansa said in a haughty tone that no one at the table missed.

"Sansa," her mom said in a stern tone.

"He's my partner, and I need to ace this project. So, I either go over there, or he comes over. Choose."

"I am your father, and you will not speak like that to me," Petyr demanded.

Sansa scoffed. "You are not my father. My father is dead. I think you know that by now, Petyr. It didn't take very long for you to snatch my mom up after he was gone."

Petyr slammed his palm on the counter. A fierce expression transformed his features. "You want that boy to come into our home? Do you even know who his father is?"

"What does his dad have anything to do with this? Is that what you're worried about, him being like his father? I can assure you that he is not."

"You don't know that, Sansa. That boy is a drug dealer, a thief."

Sansa tightened her fists, biting back every expletive she wanted to shout at him. Like he had any right to talk about criminals. "I have to ace this project, so decide or I will," she said through clenched teeth.

"How will he even get here?"

"You'll lend me the car. I'll pick him up and drop him off."

Petyr shook his head. "You know how much gas you're wasting by doing that?"

"We can afford it." Sansa held her head high in defiance, not prepared to back down anytime soon.

"Fine. You can use the Mercedes but only those three times a week. Mom will still pick you up and drive you home the other days."

"Fine." Sansa stood up and took her plate to the dishwasher.

Petyr openly glared down at her. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into with that boy."

Sansa looked him straight in the eye, being practically the same height as him if not slightly taller than him. "Don't create stories in your head. It's not good for you."

Without another word, she headed to her room to get ready for school.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spotify I'm creating that helps me write Sansa and Sandor <3
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14LClemkZyjcuNxbvKAcgI?si=NJ8WYnqCS9ibuEv-GKGvWg)


	6. Risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love <3
> 
> Keep safe out there and feel free to say hi!
> 
> Much love <3

**_So you're beaten up but you bounce back_ **   
**_It’s all part of the pull_ **   
**_And the story runs like a soundtrack_ **   
**_We repeat 'til we're full_ **

Sansa walked into sixth period and immediately went over to Sandor. His hair tousled in a way that made him appear almost boyish. Yet, his body told a whole different story. The black Henley he wore stretched across his broad shoulders, and when he shifted, it caused his biceps to bulge, straining the fabric. He looked uncomfortable sitting behind a desk due to how massive he was; his legs seemed to stretch on for days and days.

Sansa swallowed hard as she took in his hands. White spindly scars marked his skin, but her attention became drawn to his long, thick fingers and clean-cut nails. He took care of himself. It wasn't like he was some cave-dweller that never saw the light of day. No, his tanned skin said otherwise. She could tell he shaved daily due to the subtle shadow that surrounded his jaw. She figured he didn't have a beard for the sole reason one part of his face was unable to grow hair. He was quite handsome despite the burns.

"You going to stare all day, or are you going to say something?" Sandor grumbled, still staring out the window.

She flushed at how blatant her perusal had been. He had probably seen her in the reflection of the window. He was probably wondering what the hell she was doing just standing by his desk without saying a word.

Sansa cleared her throat, smoothing down her pleated skirt. "I talked to my step-dad, and he said I could borrow his car under one condition."

Sandor flicked his grey gaze over to her. "And what is this one condition?"

"Well, it might be several, but one is that you have to come to my place to do the project."

He crossed his burly arms over his chest and made eye contact with her. "So, daddy doesn't want you playing at my house, is that it?"

Sansa stiffened at the word he used for Petyr. She wanted to hit him atop the head and demand he take that vile word back. Petyr would never be her dad.

"He's not my dad," she hissed, moving a step closer to his desk.

She didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the exposed skin of her thighs. His gaze lingered there for a moment before he snapped his eyes back up. A scowl pulled his brow in at the middle. Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, Petyr doesn't trust you, he thinks you are a drug dealer and a thief."

"He isn't wrong," Sandor chuckled, but as usual, it held no humor to it. She wondered how someone could laugh, but it be utterly void of emotion. It scared her.

"I don't care what you do on the side. Are you fine with working at my house?"

"Don't have a car."

She huffed out a sigh. "If you would let me finish, then maybe I could give you the details."

"Carry on, princess."

She hated that pet name. "I will get out of practice at seven and will go pick you up to bring you to my house. We'll work on the project, and I'll drop you back off at home after."

Sandor's eyes widened slightly. "You're willing to go through all that trouble for a stupid fucking project?"

"Yes," she spat. "As I keep telling you, this grade is important to me. So, what do you say?"

"Fine."

"Fine?" She snapped.

He glared at her. "I said fine."

"Alright, then we will be meeting tomorrow. Got it?"

"Would you fuck off already?" He cast his attention to the front where the teacher had just meandered in with some students.

Sansa moved to her desk, sitting down with the grace she always possessed, and she swore she heard him openly laugh at her, a mocking kind of laugh. She refused to let him see the way he got under her skin. She unpacked her notebook, pens, and pencils, waiting for the teacher to begin the lecture.

Once class was over, Sansa made her way to the lockers to grab her dance notebook needed for practice. She ran into Harry on the way, also her ex-boyfriend. She didn't know what she had seen in him in the first place. His blonde hair and magnetic eyes might have done the trick at one point. Now she could hardly stand to look at him.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, leaning against the locker next to hers.

Sansa grabbed her notebook and slammed the locker shut. She turned to face him. "Don't call me that. Do you need something? I have places to be."

Harry chuckled, leaning closer to Sansa. She instinctively stepped back, not wanting him in her personal bubble. "Are you still mad about Chelsea?"

"And Kathy, Nicole, Sharon, should I go on?" She smiled sharply with a tilt of her head.

His features turned to a menacing glower. "It's not nice to tease men, Sansa."

"Well, that's funny. I don't see a man present."

Suddenly, he reached out, gripping her bicep, sure enough, to leave bruises. "You know you liked everything I did to you."

She struggled to pull her arm away, noticing how everyone just kept moseying past them without even trying to raise a hand to help her. "I hated every second of being with you, Harry. Get the hint and leave me alone."

He lowered to the point his face was mere inches from hers. "I see the way you look at Clegane. Imagine what everybody would say if they found out you were lusting after the loser with nothing to his name."

She did everything in her power to keep her face blank of any kind of emotion. She couldn't afford for this asshole to read into anything she said, and her face had to follow suit. "You like to speak out of your ass, don't you, Harry?"

His lips curled into a sneer. "Don't play stupid, Sansa, it doesn't become you." She flinched away from the spit that landed on her lip. Her eyes were narrowing in anger at him when his other hand cupped the back of her neck. She felt all the hair on her body rise at the touch."Do you want that guy's scabby cock in you? Is that what you want, Sansa? Want him to pin you down and fuck you like the savage he is?"

The anger washed out of her replaced with raw fury. "Stop," she whispered, barely containing the rage coursing through her.

"God, Sansa, if you lowered your standards so much, what's the problem with giving me a second chance? I can give you what he can't."

Tears threatened to spill over. She swallowed down the bile that clogged her throat. "I will never give you a second chance, Harry. Leave me the hell alone."

Suddenly, Harry was yanked off of her. He stumbled back into the lockers, barely catching himself from falling on his ass. Sandor glowered down at him. "Get fucking lost."

Harry said nothing as he scampered off. Sansa placed a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath in and letting it out a moment later. She was trembling, and her legs felt like they were going to give out.

"Are you okay?"

"Your sister," Sansa said, bypassing his question. She wasn't okay. She didn't feel like lying to him.

"She had to talk to her teacher, told me to pick her up in fifteen."

"Oh, well, I have to get to practice." She made to walk, but her legs felt like noodles. She placed a hand on the lockers.

"Sansa," Sandor murmured, a calloused hand gently wrapped around the same bicep that Harry had cruelly grasped. She flinched at how tender the skin was, and Sandor tore his hand away, letting it fall back to his side. She saw a flash of hurt cross his face before it disappeared, his face again to its stone-cold mask.

"Thank you, but I have to go."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," he muttered, walking past her to exit the school.

Sansa leaned back against the lockers, watching him go, hating that she had made him feel like his touch was unwelcome. She placed both hands on her face releasing a sigh. Harry had said horrible things, and she wished she could erase them from her mind. He had been right about her lust for Sandor, but the things he said about him being a savage was utterly unjustified. No matter her feelings for Sandor, she had to keep them under wraps. She couldn't continue to be noticeable anymore.

Lately, she felt her mask slipping more and more. It would only get her into a world full of hurt.

∞

"Fifty-five, fifty-six," Anne counted Sandor's push-ups as she sipped on a vanilla coke. She sat crossed legged and had a magazine in front of her, but she hardly paid attention to it in favor of counting. He always counted inside his head, Anne just seemed to like helping him, and he didn't have the heart to tell her he was already on push-up sixty-seven.

"I noticed a motorcycle pass by our house a couple of times yesterday," Anne said casually as she flipped a page of the magazine.

He halted in his movements. "What?"

"He had a vest on. I saw the patches."

Sandor got to his feet, walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Anne was hot on his heels. "The back of his vest had some creature on it with lightning surrounding it."

He chugged his water, trying to assuage the sudden desert that had formed in his throat. He crushed the plastic in his hand and threw the bottle in the recycling bin. His dad did not quarrel with Sandor taking the cans and bottles to earn some extra cash on the side as long as he bought beer for him. He didn't fight his dad on the matter.

"Was that the first time you noticed him?"

Anne nodded.

"Don't worry about that guy, alright?"

Anne nibbled on her bottom lip, kicking at imaginary dust. "He was scary looking, Sandor."

Sandor gently pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, causing her to look up at him. "I'm scary looking too."

She shook her head, cupping the back of his hand and pressing her cheek further into his palm. "No, he was a bad guy. I could tell he hurts people. You're not like that."

He forced a smile upon his face. It didn't meet his eyes, and he could tell Anne noticed. He placed his other hand on her cheek, pulling her close he leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. "You know you mean everything to me, right?"

She pulled back slightly, searching his eyes. "I know. Sandor," she said softly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Anne."

She yanked out of his gentle hold and crossed her arms over her waist. A sign she was closing off from him. "You're scaring me, Sandor. Something is wrong, and you're dealing with it all on your own. That isn't like you."

He stepped forward, but she stepped back, and he felt that like a punch to the gut. "I'm going to make things right, Anne. I promise. You need to trust me, please."

"You need to tell me what is going on! You can't keep me in the dark and expect me to understand why I need to trust you!"

"Fuck," he growled. "I fucked up, Anne. I sold weed in the wrong area, and now I have the fucking Night's Diablo breathing down my neck. I have to go meet with them five days from now, and I'm terrified." He swallowed hard and stepped forward, thankful she didn't back away. He placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling how tense she was. "I don't know what is going to happen to me. I might not come back, Anne, and you're going to need to find a way to keep going without me."

Her eyebrows rose so high they practically touched her hairline. Her eyes searched his. She was already pale as it was, but now it was like all the color had completely wiped off her face. The rosy tint to her cheeks gone. "No, you can't leave me. I can't live without you, Sandor, not like this, not with dad."

"I'm going to try to strike up a deal with them. I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're taken care of. Please, just trust me that I'm not going down without a fight."

She began to cry, and the sight was enough to shatter his heart into a billion pieces. He yanked her into his arms, she began to sob, clutching his shirt. "Don't leave me."

"Anne," he murmured, stroking the back of her head, trying to soothe her.

"I love you, Sandor. Please, don't leave me."

"Shh, everything will work out for the best. I love you so much. I'm going to fix this. I promise."

He held her close, hoping that things would work out in his favor. The days were flying by, and he was one step closer to finding out what would become of him.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	7. Just Beneath the Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support on this story <3

**_We're at a stalemate_ **   
**_Begging for the earth to shake_ **   
**_Wonder if the winds will change and blow us all away_ **   
**_We are in the dark age_ **   
**_Tell me it was worth the pain_ **   
**_Will the wild winds sing again and blow us all away_ **

Sandor stood in front of the bathroom mirror, slicking his hair back, ensuring there weren't any stray pieces. Sansa would be arriving to pick him up in less than an hour. For reasons he didn't care to understand, he wanted to look presentable to her family.

There wasn't much he could do about his face, but he could wear decent clothes and fix his hair for once. He had found the one black button-up shirt he owned. It was a little tight on his upper body; still, it was better than nothing. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and put on denim jeans and his best pair of combat boots that weren't scuffed up.

He felt stupid for trying to look good. That wasn't something that came naturally to him, unlike some people.

He remembered that blonde asshole gripping Sansa's arm like he had every right to do so. She wasn't one to show fear, but he had seen it in her eyes even though the rest of her face remained passive. It hadn't taken much effort for him to push the bastard off of her. He didn't miss the way she looked relieved as the guy ran off like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.

Sandor didn't know what possessed him to touch her. When she flinched, he realized he had made a mistake. He hated how it hurt his feelings when she pulled away from him. He noted that he would never lay a hand on her again. She didn't want him anywhere near her.

He left the bathroom, running straight into his father. "Watch where you're going, kid," his dad grumbled, the smell of beer wafting off of his breath.

"Sorry."

His dad stepped back, assessing him in a way that had Sandor starting to sweat. "Why are you dressed like you're about to go on a date?"

His shoulders stiffened instinctively. He didn't enjoy his dad's strict, unwavering eye contact. "I don't date. I'm going to work on that project with the Stark girl."

"Stark? You mean that wolf, bitch?"

Sandor heard stories about the Stark's and how they came from a long line of royalty in the past. Their symbol had been a wolf. He had noticed Sansa wearing a wolf ring from time to time but thought nothing of it. It wasn't any of his business.

He didn't like his dad calling Sansa a bitch. He wanted to punch him square in the face for it, but he knew nothing good would come of retaliation. "Yes. Sansa Stark. She's going to pick me up in a bit."

He hated the way his dad laughed. It was harsh and hostile. "Oh, fucking Christ, son. Do you think that girl would ever give you a chance? Look at you, you're a fucking disaster, and your looks don't help."

Sandor flinched away from his father's angry words. He didn't need the constant reminder that he would never be good enough for anyone, especially Sansa. He understood full well he wasn't attractive or appealing to the eyes. Still, it wasn't something he enjoyed hearing from a drunken loser.

"I'm not trying to get with her, dad." The lie was evident with the way his voice trembled.

His father began to laugh so loud it hurt Sandor's ears. He tried to push past him, but a palm slammed down on his chest, halting his progression forward. "Sandor, I know you're desperate, but know your place."

Sandor grasped his dad's wrist, glaring down at him. He tightened his hold, reveling in the way fear flashed across his icy blues. "I know my fucking place, dad. I wouldn't dare taint a pretty little thing like Sansa-fucking-Stark. So, don't worry about me and focus on yourself."

"Let me go," he spat.

Sandor smiled wickedly down at him and let him go. He stumbled away from Sandor, rubbing at his wrist. "You're fucking insane."

Anne peeked her head out at that moment, eyeing the two of them. "Everything is fine, Anne." She nodded, shutting the door. Sandor heard the audible click of the lock. He turned his attention back to his dad.

"Don't forget that I could easily inflict pain on her, Sandor."

Sandor wasted no time in diminishing the gap between him and his dad. He grasped his throat, slamming him up against the wall. "I will fucking kill you, do you fucking hear me, I will fucking kill you if you touch her," Sandor snarled in his face.

"Easy, son, easy. I'm just playing," he stammered. Sandor let go of him and decided to wait outside. His father would retaliate soon enough, but right now, he wouldn't do anything.

Sandor sat on the curb, wishing he had a cigarette. He had never cared much for the habit. He hardly smoked as it was, but if he did, it usually was because his stress levels were at their max. With all that he had been dealing with lately, he wasn't surprised by his urge to smoke.

The flash of headlights coming down the street had him on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets to do something with them. The car was a silver Mercedes with shiny rims that looked like they had been put on recently. He had some weird gut feeling that whoever put those on did it intentionally to show him what he could never obtain.

The window rolled down, and there was Sansa in all her glory. Not a single hair was out of place, but her cheeks were tinted pink. "Hey."

He nodded in response and opened the door, folding his massive body to fit in the small contraption. He searched for the lever to push his seat back, feeling nothing as he did so. "It's on the side," she said, pointing towards a button that had arrows on it. He pressed the back button and felt his chair slowly start to scoot back.

"Fucking rich people," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing." He managed to get comfortable, spreading his knees and extending his legs, so he didn't feel trapped.

Sansa had yet to start driving. He looked over at her to see she was staring at him. "Is something the matter?" He grunted, shifting anxiously under her unwavering gaze.

He felt her gaze all over him in the next moment. Blue eyes drifted over his hair down his neck causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. She took in his button-up shirt, and then they stopped at his forearms. His hands balled into fists, where they sat on his thighs. He didn't understand what she was doing, looking at him in such a way. It made him want to run and get as far as he could from a girl as dangerous as Sansa.

"You look nice," she said, turning her attention forward and began driving.

Sandor didn't know how to respond to the compliment, so he kept his mouth shut and stared out the window.

The drive was filled with unbearable silence. He usually enjoyed someone not making unnecessary conversation. Still, at the moment, the tension in the car was making it hard to breathe. He didn't think twice, reaching over to turn on the radio. He put on some rock station and was grateful for the sounds of guitar and drums overtaking the silence. Sansa said nothing about him turning on music, another thing he was thankful for. Some people didn't care much for people touching things in their car. She didn't seem to care at all.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, they arrived in a suburban neighborhood. Every house was extravagant and appealing to the eyes. Their lawns were neat and trimmed, their walls not splattered with dirt. He was sure they hardly had to worry about break-ins with their neighborhood watch signs and expensive security systems.

Sansa pulled up beside the curb of a two-story house that was a lot more humble than he had been expecting. The walls were painted white, with a grey roof and grey shudders aligning each window. Sansa wasted no time hopping out, and Sandor was quick to follow. She walked up to the door. He couldn't help but stare at the glass shaped in an oval with a wolf, river with fish jumping out of it, and mountains etched on it. He had never seen a door with art on it before.

Sansa proceeded to unlock the door, stepping inside, holding it open for Sandor. He ran a hand through his hair, nervous to walk past the threshold before him. "Sandor?" Sansa said softly.

He shoved both hands into his pockets and stepped inside, hearing the click of the door locking behind him. "My room is upstairs. I have to introduce you to my mom and step-father first, though."

Sandor looked at the stairs located right next to the door. He could hear boys playing video games from where he stood and the blasting of a TV in another room. It was all quite loud and intimidating. He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to dispel the nerves racing through him.

"Sansa?" A woman called from the other room.

"Yes, mom, it's me," Sansa replied and began to walk down the hallway, making a left at the end. Sandor followed behind her, finally realizing how much he towered over her from this angle.

He saw multiple pictures upon the walls of smiling faces. The walls at his house were dull and lifeless. He had a few pictures of him and Anne but nothing more. He wasn't one to take photos unless he was forced to-meaning if Anne forced him.

Sandor was too busy looking at all the pictures that he hadn't realized four sets of eyes, all staring at him. He shifted his gaze to see what had to be Sansa's mom and step-father, both examining him with looks he couldn't decipher. Sansa nibbled at her bottom lip, observing him with a nervous expression. The last person gazing at him was a short girl with eyes that were similar to his in color. She smirked at him, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm Sandor," he said, still rooted to where he stood a good six feet from all of them.

"I’m Catelyn and this is my husband, Petyr." Catelyn wrung a towel in her pale hands. Sansa had gotten most of her looks from her mom. They looked almost identical, but Sansa had softer and more delicate features versus her mom's, which were sharper.

Petyr reminded Sandor of a weasel. His smile was off-setting and didn't meet his eyes.

"It's nice to meet you finally, Sandor," Petyr said as he strutted over to Sandor putting his hand out towards him.

Sandor glanced down at the hand extended towards him and up to Petyr's steely gaze. He could practically feel the hatred rolling off of this man in waves. He took his hand out of his pocket and placed it in Petyr's, shaking it with a firm grasp.

"Big boy," the girl sitting at the dining table chuckled, playing with some device in her hands.

Sandor let go of Petyr's hand, putting it back into his pocket. He bowed his head and felt his face flush with heat at the girl's blatant comment.

"Don't mind her, Sandor," Sansa murmured, coming to stand before him. He lifted his eyes slightly. A tight smile was upon her face.

"Well, she's only telling the truth, Sansa. How tall are you? 6'3? 6'4?" Petyr questioned. Sandor knew he was jesting. He was intentionally trying to get a rise out of him.

"6'6."

"6'6, geez, kid. You play a sport?"

"No."

"Huh, what a waste. You could have gotten a scholarship to play somewhere."

Sandor glanced over at him, noting that he stood way too close to Sansa to be considered normal. He flicked his gaze to Sansa to see that she seemed uncomfortable. She flinched when Petyr wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Sansa is an amazing dancer. She'll probably be accepted into any top tier dance academy."

"I wouldn't know. I've never seen her dance," Sandor muttered. Sansa's skin flared bright pink at the comment. "Maybe she'll show me sometime," he added, just to see the smile fall off of Petyr's face. He moved away from Sansa.

"I guess you two should start working on your project," Petyr said. Sansa nodded and was about to leave until he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His eyes flicked to Sandor and back to her. "Leave the door open, okay?"

Sansa openly glared at him. "Sure. Come on, Sandor."

Sandor purposely brushed past Petyr. A small smile twisted the good side of his lips up in a way that made the older man back up slightly with a disgusted expression.

Sandor concluded he hated Petyr. He was sick in the head, and the way he looked at Sansa was inappropriate for a step-father. Her mom must be blind or pretended like she saw nothing. He hadn't missed the annoyed expression that flitted across Arya's face when Petyr wrapped his arm around Sansa. He guessed these kids weren't that fond of their step-father.

They passed a room where two older guys sat playing video games. Both of them glanced over and did a double-take when they saw Sandor. They whispered something to one another, but Sandor kept walking, not caring what they had to say about him. The next room, they passed another set of boys were watching TV. Sandor saw that it was Dragon Ball Z, and he smiled in his head. He had loved that show when he was a kid. It was probably something he'd still watch to this day if his dad didn't give him shit over it.

Finally, they arrived at her room. Sandor felt strange walking inside. He had never been in a girl's room other than his sister's. There were striking differences between them, where his sister was layered in pinks and purples, Sansa's walls were painted a baby blue color. They had an assortment of pictures and paintings adorning the walls. Her room was also much larger than Sandor's and Anne's combined. He could move in it comfortably.

Her desk was a cherry wood, simple with a laptop and some books on it. Her bed, a queen-sized from the looks of it, covers different shades of blues with an assortment of pillows on it. Her TV hung on the wall, and below it sat her dresser that had a piggy bank, make-up, and notebooks upon it. All in all, her room was simplistic, not fancy at all. It confused him because her image at school was vastly different than what her room showed. At school, she was all designer clothes wearing that plastic smile; here, he could see a weight fall off her as she set her stuff down and booted up her computer.

He realized this was her sanctuary. The one place she could just be Sansa, and now, she was letting him into that world. He inched back towards the door, feeling wrong, invading her private space like he was at this very moment. 

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he grunted, still walking backward.

She eyed him curiously. "Then why do you look like your seconds from bolting out of here."

He gripped her door handle, and his knuckles bled into white. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Stop being a child and sit down. We have shit to do."

He glowered at her. Embarrassment had his cheeks flushing with heat. He knew he was acting like a helpless, frightened child, but she was too up on her high horse to ever understand the turmoil going on inside him.

"Sit," she demanded, pushing her computer chair towards him. He yanked the chair towards him and sat down. She grabbed her laptop and plopped down at the edge of her bed, kicking her shoes off in the process. She was still wearing her skirt for cheer. It did things to him to be able to look at all that pale, freckled skin before him. He wanted to scoot closer to her and find out if she was as soft as she seemed. Instead, he grasped the handles of the chair and forced himself to behave.

"So, the story has to be at least forty pages and can revolve around anything we want. I guess we should figure out a genre and go from there," Sansa stated, going over the syllabus in her hand.

"Sci-fi," he replied.

She scowled at him, her eyes practically shooting daggers at him. "The last thing I want to write is Sci-fi."

He threaded his fingers behind his head and scoffed. "Let me guess. You want to write a romance, all about a prince and princess who fall in love at first sight and live happily ever after, right?"

She gritted her teeth, hands clenching on her laptop. "Actually, no. I think Sci-fi and romance are overplayed. Let's write a story about a guy who is running from his demons. He has an alcoholic father who beats him and a little sister that is the apple of his eye. Still, this guy has gotten himself in trouble, and he doesn't know how to get out. Hm, doesn't that sound interesting?" She cocked her head to the side, and a cruel smile pulled her lovely, pink lips up at the sides.

Sandor's shallow, rapid breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the room. He was trembling and felt sick to his stomach. "Go fuck yourself," he whispered the words holding no heat behind them.

"I'm sorry, did that hit a little too close to home?" He could tell she wasn't sorry—reason why he didn't feel bad for what he said next.

"I think we should write a story about a girl who lives a privileged life and supposedly perfect life. In reality, she has a mom that expects too much out of her and a step-father who would very much like her to shake her ass only for him. She has a bunch of siblings so wrapped in their shit that they hardly notice when she is around. Her friends hate her, and the only place she can be herself is in her room where no one can see her fake smile disappear, and her act fall away. She's lonely, but she won't let anyone see that. I think that story is a whole lot more interesting than your idea."

Sansa was on her feet, standing before him. Her hand raised as if she were about to slap him. It hung in the air as she breathed hard. Her eyes were wild, and the energy that surged around her untamed. He looked up at her, unmoving, daring her to hit him.

"Will it make you feel better if you hit me? Go ahead. I'm used to it. Your little slaps will feel like fucking petals against my skin compared to what my dad's punches feel like," he jeered, his lips twisting into a cynical half-smile.

"Shut up," she hissed, tears had formed in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered.

"Come on, Sansa, do it," he snarled.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" A voice said behind them. Sansa turned away from him, and he saw her wiping at her face before she turned back around, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Nothing, Arya. We're just figuring out what to write for our story and thought acting it out might be beneficial."

"Oh, is that what you guys were doing? Because the tension in this room says otherwise."

"Mind your own business."

"Whatever, don't forget your door is wide open, idiot," Arya huffed and left.

Sansa's eyes were so blue that it was almost frightening. They were cold as ice, and he had to suppress a shiver at how quickly she went from being livid to showing no emotion at all.

"We have work to do. If I fail this, then I'm blaming you," she said in a monotone voice before sitting back down. "So, let's figure out the plot of this story so I can take you home."

Without another word, she began to jot down ideas. Soon enough, they came up with the idea to write a mystery story where the murderer was the detective's best friend. Once that was decided, she took him home.

She pulled up beside the curb, staring straight ahead. "I'll see you Monday," Sandor muttered and got out of the car. She wasted no time in speeding off.

Sandor felt like shit about what went down between them. There was nothing he could do about it, though. Sansa didn't seem the type to want to hear some bullshit apology from him.

He went inside, and nothing seemed out of the norm. His dad was passed out on the couch, and when he went to check on Anne, she was fast asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He plopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

He covered his face with both hands, feeling the slight tremor of guilt racing through him. He didn't want to feel bad about what happened between him and Sansa. He shouldn't after everything she had done to belittle him in the past four years. Still, he wasn't the type to fight fire with fire. He would try to hold his tongue better. He laughed out loud at that. Sansa tested his patience like no other.

He wondered if there was any chance in hell they could be civil with each other.

He doubted it.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spotify 
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14LClemkZyjcuNxbvKAcgI?si=LrFmP8NATCe4ZhoslMdimA)


	8. Nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always so happy to read the comments I receive! Thank you guys, your support means everything <3
> 
> Much love <3

**_And I don't want your pity_ **   
**_I just want somebody near me_ **   
**_Guess I'm a coward_ **   
**_I just want to feel alright_ **

Sansa was up bright and early Saturday morning, going on her usual run on the weekends. The air was crisp and felt terrific against her heated skin as she ran mile after mile. She needed these runs to clear her head, and they usually did. She arrived home, hands on her hips as she caught her breath, but thoughts of how she treated Sandor yesterday still plagued her mind. She let out an annoyed huff of air and went inside, ignoring the smell of coffee that called her name in exchange for a shower.

Once she was clean, she decided she would grab a cup of coffee and find something to eat. When she walked into the kitchen, her mom was already whipping up breakfast.

"Good morning, mom," Sansa announced her presence as she grabbed her favorite mug decorated with sunflowers and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Her mom glimpsed over her shoulder, giving Sansa a bright smile. "Good morning, sweetie. I'm making French toast. It should be ready soon."

"Thanks, mom."

"Did you go on your morning run?"

"Yup, I have to stay in shape for cheer. No days off for me," Sansa hummed, taking a tentative sip of her coffee. She had always preferred it black to the dismay of her family.

"You look amazing, honey. You don't even have to try."

"Thanks."

Her mom placed a bunch of French toast on a plate, wiping her hands off on a towel. She then leaned against the counter, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Are you okay, Sansa?"

Sansa's brows furrowed at her mom's question. She had never been the type to bother much with what was going on with Sansa. It was out of the blue for her to be checking up on her. She figured her mom was beating around the bush to get to her real question. "I'm great. Why?"

Her mom shrugged, fiddling with the towel still in her hands. "I just feel like something is off with you. You seemed quite unhappy after dropping off that boy."

"That boy has a name, it's Sandor," Sansa quipped, gritting her teeth slightly for the sudden show of emotion. Her mom did not need to know how Sansa felt about Sandor.

Her mom's eyes softened. "I didn't mean to offend, sweetie."

Sansa waved a dismissive hand in front of her face. "I know what you're doing, mom, if you have something to say, then say it."

"Do you like him?"

Sansa laughed, shaking her head. "What's that supposed to mean? I like him as much as I like dirt on my shoes. He's my partner. I thought I already mentioned this."

Her mom was about to say something until she was interrupted. "You're a bitch, Sansa," Arya chided as she moved to grab a cup of coffee.

"Arya, you do not use language like that under my roof."

"Whatever mom, Sansa just can't stand anybody that doesn't fit into her ideal box of perfection. The guy isn't some psychopath like you all seem to think he is. I met him for two seconds, and I can tell he has a good heart." Arya yanked the fridge door open, searching for a moment until she found the creamer and poured some into her cup.

"No one said he's a psychopath," their mom retorted.

Arya rolled her eyes, taking a large, messy gulp of her coffee. "I saw the way you and Petyr looked at him. Aren't you the one who always taught us not to judge people by appearances? Oh, wait, that was dad." Arya proceeded to take a seat at the dining table, taking out her phone and began to play games.

"You do not talk to me like that, Arya," their mom sternly said.

"Respect is earned, mom."

"Go to your room now."

"Fine," Arya spat, grabbing her coffee, sticking her tongue out at Sansa as she left the room.

Arya was right unfortunately. Sansa shouldn't have said what she said about Sandor, especially not to her gullible mom. She would think Sandor was some guy who was only a criminal, not the sweet, guy who loved his sister so much he was willing to die for her.

Sansa was a bitch. There was no escaping that.

She had said such cruel things to Sandor last night. She shouldn't have been surprised at his retaliation.

It had crushed her heart to see him so willing to let her hit him. She could see the hurt that simmered beneath the surface of those tormented eyes. He was going through something more than he was letting on. She could feel it.

"I have to go. Tell Petyr I borrowed his car." Sansa grabbed Tupperware and began to place a bunch of the French toast inside.

Her mom looked at her like she was crazy. "Where are you going? Petyr won't be happy if you just take his car without an explanation."

"It's none of your guys business. Just tell him, _please_ , mom." She snapped the lid on and finished her coffee.

"Sansa, don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I won't, mom." She pressed a kiss to her cheek, grabbing the keys to the Mercedes, and headed outside.

She may be doing something stupid, but she had to make things right.

∞

Sansa pulled up to the curb of Sandor's house, noting the car in the driveway and the garage open. She stroked her hair back, hoping it didn't look too wild. She glanced down at her striped tank top, an array of orange, white, and yellow and high-waisted denim jeans. She figured she at least was somewhat put together. She hadn't thought much about her appearance until she was sitting right outside of his house. She shouldn't care what he thought of her, but she did. She wanted to look good.

She gathered her confidence, grabbing the container with the French toast, and began to walk up to his driveway. She swallowed hard when she saw he was doing pull-ups without a shirt on. She held the container tighter to her chest, where her heart was preparing to explode. He appeared even more massive without a shirt on. His biceps bulged, the veins racing through his arms stood out against tan skin as he continued to lift himself effortlessly over and over again. His traps were the largest she had ever seen on a man before, his back a mass of sinew and muscle that led to a tapered waist.

He glanced over, noticing her, an astonished look crossed his eyes, and he let go of the bar. "Sansa?" he muttered, seeming like he didn't believe she was standing in his driveway.

He walked towards her, rewarding her with his front side. She hadn't been expecting his chest to be covered in hair, but she found she appreciated the way it looked leading down to a toned torso that also had a layer of dark hair. She had to force her eyes away from the neat strip of hair that led into his shorts. She almost couldn't handle the way the sweat glistened off of his muscles or the way the sun beat down on his tanned shoulders. It had her skin flaring with heat.

"Hi," she croaked and extended the container of French toast towards him.

He eyed it dubiously, his brow furrowed, and he raised his stormy gaze back up to her. "What is it?"

"French toast. My mom made it."

She felt silly, still holding it towards him. Her heart was racing a mile a minute as she waited for him to take her peace offering. She nibbled on her lip, trying hard to stop gazing at all the muscles presented in front of her.

His giant hand came into her vision as he took the container from her. "Why are you here, Sansa?" She could hear the skepticism in his tone. He didn't trust her, and he had no reason to.

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm here to say sorry about what I said yesterday. That was uncalled for and not fair for me to say."

"I wasn't any better," he grumbled.

She found the strength to meet his eyes. They were gentle and inviting, a total contrast to how he appeared on the outside. "I deserved it."

"I'm usually not the type to stoop to someone's level. I see no point in it, but you tend to drive me up the wall, little bird." A small smile tugged his lips up at the side. It was almost charming. It made Sansa's heart skip a beat.

"Little bird?" she implored.

He shrugged. "You talk a lot. Chirping your little pleasantries even though there is no need. Little birds do not need to apologize to dogs."

"You're no dog, Sandor," she stated softly.

She swore she saw red tint his cheeks at the comment, but it could just be from his workout.

Sandor rubbed the nape of his neck. "Did you want to come inside?"

"Um, sure," she replied.

He walked over to his workout bench, grabbing his shirt. He slung it over his shoulder and walked into the house with her close behind. She immediately noticed how it was clean but bare. There was no color to liven up the place. There was no dining room. A small table sat in the corner of the kitchen. She watched as he set the French toast down on the wooden table that looked old and worn down.

"My room is down the hall," he muttered. Sansa could see the vein at his neck pulsing hard. She wondered if he was nervous about having her in his space. She hoped she wasn't intruding. She would leave if that were the case.

"Son?" Sansa peered over to see a man coming from what she presumed was the living room. She had heard a TV playing but had thought nothing of it. The man was tall and ridden with muscle, but he had a beer gut. He was probably a good head shorter than Sandor, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Sandor looked nothing like him. She figured he had to have gotten his looks from his mom.

The man smiled, but it was unsettling. She instinctively moved closer to Sandor. His dad didn't miss the slight movement, and she saw his smile only grow. "Who are you beautiful?"

Sansa put on her plastic smile, and instantly it was like everything in the room brightened because she knew how to exude fake warmth. "Sansa, I'm a friend of Sandor's."

"Ah, Sansa Stark, right?"

She nodded happily. "That's me."

"Sandor didn't say he was going to have a friend over, especially one so pretty. I would have made myself more presentable," he said, leering at her. He smoothed a hand over his stomach, wearing a stained wife-beater and denim jeans.

She kept her cool, placing a hand on Sandor's bicep, feeling him tense beneath her touch. She waved a hand in front of her face. "Oh, I showed up out of the blue. I gave this poor guy, no warning, sorry." She playfully pouted her lips at Sandor, and he gaped down at her like she had grown a second head.

"Well, you're always welcome here, Sansa." He grinned at her, and it fell away instantly when he peered at Sandor. "You behave yourself, kid." Without another word, he left back to the living room.

Sansa let her hand fall back to her side and gave Sandor a kind smile, hoping it would calm him. It proved to be futile because he stared at her in a way that had her core clenching on nothing. He came back to himself, a soft growl escaped him, and he began heading down the hall. Sansa did her best to calm her labored breathing and followed him.

A door whipped open, Sandor's little sister stood in the doorway, scowling up at Sansa. "What are you doing here?"

Sansa quirked a brow at her. "Visiting."

Anne moved into Sansa's space, catching her off guard. "If you hurt my brother, I'll hurt you."

"Anne, relax," Sandor sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Anne frowned at Sandor. "Why would you let her into our house? She doesn't belong here."

"She's visiting, all right? That's it."

"I know what girls like her want, Sandor. You shouldn't trust her."

"Enough," he snapped. "Go do your homework, okay?"

She said nothing, shutting her door instead of slamming it. Sansa had a gut feeling it was because she didn't want to gain their dad's attention.

Sansa deserved the little girl's spite, but it still sucked. She didn't want to be on the wrong side of Sandor's family. She was trying to make amends, but it wouldn't be as easy as she thought.

Sansa walked inside Sandor's room. It was small, hardly enough room to walk around comfortably. It was neat and orderly, though. Posters of bands adorned his walls, none that she knew. She noted there were only a couple of pictures on his dresser of him and his sister. His bed was too small for a guy like him, black sheets and two pillows upon it. Other than that, she noticed some books pushed up against the wall. A single plaid chair sat in the corner next to the window. She guessed that was why he was always staring out the window at school.

Sansa took a seat in it, threading her fingers together on her lap. Sandor went to his dresser, grabbing a black shirt, and pulled it over his head. She shouldn't have been so enthralled by something so mundane. Still, it excited her. She had to dig her nails into her hands to stop from reaching out and touching him.

Once he was dressed, he sat at the edge of his bed in front of her. "Your sister is protective of you."

He laughed, and for once, it held a touch of warmth. She wanted to know how he sounded when he was laughing. Would it be loud and boisterous? Or soft and guttural? She wanted to know Sandor. In every single way. She would take whatever he would offer. It probably wouldn't be much due to her always finding some reason to be a bitch to him.

"I guess we're protective over one another."

"I thought she was going to bite my throat out," Sansa joked, shuddering for added effect.

"She's a little firecracker. Better watch your back," he remarked with that boyish smile plastered on his face.

"Oh, I will. She looks like she could take me on without wasting her breath."

He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair with a shake of his head. "So, you have a lot of siblings, how old are they?"

Sansa crossed her leg over the other. She saw him track the movement and smiled inside her head that she did have some effect on him. "Well, Robb is twenty-one. Jon is my cousin. He's twenty. Arya is fifteen. Bran is thirteen, and Rickon is nine."

"Your cousin lives with you?"

"Yeah, his parents passed away a long time ago. So, my mom and dad adopted him."

"Where is your dad?"

"He passed away when I was thirteen. Cancer."

Sadness washed over Sandor's features. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I miss him, but I know he's in a better place."

"My mom passed away from cancer too. It's the fucking worse to see someone you love like that."

Sansa was surprised by his confession. "Yes, it is. You feel helpless."

"Yeah, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." Their eyes connected, and neither looked away. She didn't know what was happening. It was terrifying, and yet, felt so right. There was something about Sandor that lured her in, and she didn't care if it would bring destruction. She wanted to stop caring what everyone thought of her. She wanted him. It was just a matter of finding out if he could ever possibly want her back.

Her phone began ringing, breaking whatever connection they had just formed. She answered it without looking at the caller id. "Hello?"

"Sansa, where are you?"

It was Petyr. "I'm at a friend's house."

"I didn't say you could use my car."

"I'm sorry. It was important."

"Who is this friend?" Sansa eyed Sandor. He was staring out the window like he so often did.

"Jeyne. I'll be home soon."

"Ask my permission before you use my car again, got it?"

"Yeah, got it. Bye."

She hung up and stood to her feet.

"Can't tell daddy where you are?" He asked, leaning back on his hands, his knees spreading, attracting her attention to the spot between his legs. She sucked in a harsh breath and lifted her gaze to his eyes to see the satisfied look on his face. His lips were pulled into a cruel smirk as he waited for her to say something.

"He's not my dad. Don't be an ass."

He let out a gruff laugh, laying back on his bed. He placed one hand behind his head, and the other laid flat on his stomach. "Can't tell daddy about your dirty little secret, right?"

Her hands balled into fists, glowering at him. She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Don't call him my fucking dad, Sandor."

"And here I thought we could get along. I guess I was wrong," he said, running his hand under his shirt, showing off the tanned skin that lay beneath.

She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes pinpointed on his muscle-ridden stomach. "We'll never get along because you're an insufferable asshole."

"Oh, I'm the asshole? Okay, that makes sense." She involuntarily moved closer to the bed, standing between his spread legs. He instantly startled, pushing onto his elbows, staring at her with wide eyes.

"S-Sansa?"

"What's wrong, Sandor? Not used to a girl getting this close to you." She smirked down at him. She was used to teasing boys. Sandor hardly looked like one, but his eyes told a different story.

"Fuck off," he growled, baring his teeth at her. The words were sharp but lacked the heat to make a point. He was afraid. She could see it in his eyes. He darted his gaze over to the open door, most likely nervous his sister would pass by or even worse his dad.

"Want me to shut it, Sandor? Want me to get on my knees for you?"

He snapped his attention back to her. "Don't do this to me, Sansa. Please, just go. I can take everything you say to me. I can. Call me an asshole, fucking hate me, but don't do this." His chest was rising and falling so fast she was worried he was going to hyperventilate. " _Please_ ," he whispered.

She backed away like she had been slapped. He cast his head away in what could only be shame, and she couldn't handle it.

"I'm sorry," she said close to tears and ran out of his room. She ignored the slam of the garage door behind her, stumbling over her feet as she hurried to her car. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door.

Once inside the car, she allowed her tears to fall. She hated herself. She hated how she couldn't just be kind for more than five minutes. She had seen the fear and desire in his eyes. She had put that there. She had been so cruel.

She continued to sob, trying to get a reign on her emotions when she heard the rumbling of a motorcycle. She lifted her head to see the bike in the distance. She watched as the man slowed down when he reached Sandor's house, eyeing it for a moment before picking up speed. The man saw her, looking at her as he passed. She knew their eyes had met even though glasses covered his.

Goosebumps spread on her skin.

Something in her told her that man was no one good, and whoever he was, he was keeping a close eye on Sandor's house.

Who he was after, she couldn't be sure, but her gut told her that it was Sandor.

Sandor was in trouble.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxo


	9. Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a blast writing this story!
> 
> Thank you to all who are still reading! 
> 
> Much love <3

_**Well I know that I have done you wrong** _   
_**Just give me another chance** _   
_**I'll fight for what is real** _   
_**I'll give enough to feel** _   
  


Sandor was dreading going to school tomorrow. He sat at the edge of his bed, head in his hands, trying to calm his panicked breathing. He had tossed and turned all night, desperate for sleep. Yet, every-single-time he closed his eyes he saw her.

He couldn't face Sansa, not after the way she had teased him. He couldn't shake her taunting eyes out of his mind and the way she had moved in between his legs. If she had gotten on her knees, that pretty mouth would have been too close for comfort to a specific part of him.

Sandor groaned helplessly, hating the tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes. He didn't know why he was getting so worked up about what happened. He shouldn't have expected less from a girl like Sansa. She enjoyed tormenting people she considered beneath her. He genuinely thought she might have a shred of dignity in her, but that remained untrue. She had no respect for anyone but herself. He had been a fool to think she might consider him a friend like she had said to his dad.

She was a liar with an angel's smile.

He had to keep reminding himself she wasn't someone who he could trust.

She was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he was better off without her.

He dragged himself out of bed, getting dressed in sweats and his tennis shoes. He went without his shirt, heading into the garage to get in his workout for the day. It was always easier to get a full workout during the weekends versus the week where he was swamped by school and keeping an eye on Anne.

He opened the garage to let fresh air in. He began to lift his weights, going to another place in his head that didn't involve thoughts of Sansa or a biker gang stalking his every move.

Sandor was about thirty minutes into his workout when the sound of a bike rumbling down the road caught his attention. He dropped off the pull-up bar, walking out of the garage to see the motorcycle parking right in front of his driveway. He could feel the tendons standing out on his neck, his pulse thudding violently.

The man hopped off his bike, decked out in all black, all save for the fact he had red hair. His beard was neatly cut close to his jaw, and he was a burly guy but on the shorter side.

His stride was lethargic as if he didn't have a care in the world. He took his glasses off. The sun hit his blue eyes that curiously took in his surroundings. He stopped about five feet from Sandor and smiled. It was warm and charming. It did nothing to settle the bees swarming inside Sandor's stomach. 

"Sandor, right?" Sandor was taken aback by his Scottish accent. Most people who lived in Kings Landing were born there and eventually died there. This guy was born and raised elsewhere.

"Yes," Sandor finally responded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

The man swept his gaze all over Sandor. It made him tense under the obvious observation. "You're bloody huge. I guess you ate your greens growing up, huh?"

Sandor narrowed his eyes at the guy. He was wary of why he was at his house in the first place. "I guess so."

"The name is Tormund Giantsbane," Tormund exclaimed, stepping closer to Sandor and put his hand out towards him.

Sandor eyed it for a moment before shaking it and shoved his hand back into his pocket after. "I thought I was supposed to meet with you guys on Wednesday."

Tormund nodded and clasped his hands behind his head. "That's still the deal, but my president wanted me to come to check up on you. He saw a pretty girl at your house the other day. He didn't know you had a girl. You only told him about a sister."

_Fuck. They had seen Sansa_.

"She's not my girl. She's my partner for a school project."

Tormund tsked. "Eh, the pretty girl was crying. He doesn't take kindly to men that treat women like shit." There was an edge to Tormund's tone now, and Sandor was not fond of the sudden shift.

"I would never lay a hand on a woman," Sandor said disgruntled. He didn't need another reason for this gang to bury him six feet deep.

"What did you say to her?" Blue eyes scanned over his face, trying to locate any signs of deception.

"I didn't say anything to her. She said something, and it scared me." Sandor couldn't look Tormund in the eyes any longer. He shifted nervously from side to side feeling the sweat that slid down his spine.

"What could a little girl possibly say to scare you?"

"She asked me if I wanted her to get on her knees." Sandor was surprised by his own honesty. He tended to keep his mouth shut but he figured it was best to be honest versus lie to this guy who could get him killed.

"She wanted to suck your cock?"

Sandor blushed from head to toe at Tormund's brazen question. Tormund tilted his head to the side, no doubt noticing the shift in Sandor's demeanor.

"I doubt she wanted to. She likes to get a rise out of me. She is always saying stupid shit, but she had never said anything along those lines before."

Tormund combed through his beard. "So, you didn't want her to go down on you?"

Sandor did not want to be having this conversation with someone he had just met. He was prepared to bolt, but that would probably end up with a bullet to the back of his head.

"I'm not used to girls saying shit like that to me. As I said, she was only doing that to rile me up."

"Are you a fucking virgin or something?"

Sandor didn't think it was possible to sweat as much as he was standing still. His skin felt like an inferno now, and he understood what the fires of hell felt like. It was almost nothing compared to this overwhelming feeling that made him want to hurl.

"Does that fucking matter? Are you here for a reason or just to torment me?"

Tormund raised both hands in surrender. "Easy there, kid. I didn't mean to push. Curiosity tends to get the better of me. Here," he handed Sandor a card. "We're meeting elsewhere. The president wanted to make sure you got the info but also wanted me to make sure you weren't beating on pretty girls. I'll make sure to relay the message you're just a big softie."

Sandor took the card. "Thanks," he mumbled, unable to hide the slight irritation in his tone.

Tormund clapped a hand on Sandor's shoulder, giving him a little shake. "Girls are scary, kid. I understand. See you around."

He let go of Sandor, waving as he went back to his bike and rode off.

Sandor stared at the new address on the card. He didn't know what the fuck was going on, but that guy showing up out of the blue was not what he had been expecting. He also didn't understand why he had just practically told that guy he was a virgin. He grimaced at the thought of Tormund going to all his biker buddies and relaying the news that Sandor was some sad sap that couldn't even get laid.

He tossed the card on his workout bench and resumed his pull-ups, pushing everything out of his mind.

He had to keep his focus. He would survive everything thrown at him.

He had to for Anne.

∞

Sansa sat in her room, catching up on homework that was due for class tomorrow. Thoughts of Sandor had tormented her. She couldn't get the image of his terrified eyes looking up at her, so unsure of himself, so desperate for someone to want him. She had wondered if he had been with a girl before. The way he practically cringed away from her gave her the answer she had been searching for.

She sighed, closing her laptop, unable to focus on the task at hand. She steepled her hands in front of her and pressed her forehead to them.

She wanted to erase all the hurt she had caused him. She had done so much damage. She didn't know if there was any way to go back and fix everything. She could try, but she knew she would manage to fuck everything up in the end.

"Are you okay?"

Sansa lifted her head to see Arya standing in her doorway, munching away on an apple. Arya had always been fond of food. She could always be found with some type of snack in her hand.

"I'm fine," Sansa said with a smile.

"What's bothering you?"

"Arya, I'm okay."

Arya plopped down on Sansa's bed, taking another big bite of her apple. "I know something is bothering you, or perhaps it's someone."

"You are too nosy. It's going to get you into trouble someday."

"I guess I'll have to wait for someday then. Is it Sandor?"

Sansa twirled around in her desk chair, cradling her knees to her chest. "Why would it have anything to do with him?"

Arya shot her a knowing look. "Maybe because you have a crush on him."

Sansa picked at the bottom of her jeans, her cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she swore sweat was starting to bead at her temples. "I do not."

"Come on, Sansa. You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Sansa said defensively.

"I saw the way you looked at him. Your eyes get all big, and you think you're going unnoticed. Still, I'm sure anyone who is paying attention to you can tell you're thinking about dirty, dirty things inside that head of yours."

"Arya!" Sansa couldn't help but laugh, getting up to grab a pillow and smacked it against Arya’s head. Arya giggled and rolled away from Sansa's onslaught. They wound up side by side, laughing up a storm to the point they both had tears in their eyes. They managed to catch their breath, rolling on their sides to face one another.

"So, do you like him, sis?"

Sansa looked into her sister's steely eyes seeing no judgment, only acceptance. "I do, but we would never work out. We're too different."

"Haven't you heard that whole saying opposites attract?"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "That's not necessarily true. No one would accept us together. You think mom or Petyr would be happy with me being with him?"

"Who gives a fuck what they think? If it would make you happy to be with him, then that's all that matters."

"I'm mean to him."

"Then stop being mean."

"There's no way he'll forgive me."

"He seems like a rational guy. I'm sure if you tried to be a tad nicer, he would forgive you in time."

Sansa smiled, reaching out to cup Arya's cheek. Arya's lips tipped up, and she placed her hand atop Sansa's. "You're too smart for your own good, Arya."

"I know."

"Thank you."

"I'm always here, Sansa. You know that."

Arya patted Sansa's hand and moved to get up. She said goodnight and closed Sansa's door.

Sansa closed her eyes, taking in what Arya had just said to her.

She did need to be more considerate. It would take time for Sandor to forgive, but she would do it.

She would learn to forgive herself and work to be a better person.

If she ever wanted a chance with him, she had to earn his respect.

She would start tomorrow by working towards being friends with him. She fell asleep with him on her mind, and for the first time in a long time, she had dreams instead of nightmares.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs that help me write this story <3
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14LClemkZyjcuNxbvKAcgI?si=ykJmbuC5RsK_yl5yRMHuEg)


	10. White Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: There will be somewhat graphic depictions of violence in this chapter towards the end. I just wanted you all to know just in case!
> 
> Other than that, thanks for the support!
> 
> Much love <3

_**You and I are hourglasses** _  
_**Just you and me** _  
_**Time erupts but has no pity** _  
_**And like lava I wish our bodies could freeze** _

Sansa felt somewhat stupid, carrying a plate with cupcakes upon it. She had always been a good baker and decided the best way to get a guy was through his stomach. She wasn't exactly sure if Sandor even liked sweets. She could only hope that he wouldn't throw them away the moment she handed them to him.

"Who are those for?" Jeyne asked, coming up beside Sansa, scanning her from head to toe. Sansa had even gone all out today. She curled her hair and put on cute high-waisted jeans pairing it with her favorite baby doll heels. She wore a white crop top and her blue and white bomber jacket that had flowers and Koi fish embroidered on the front. She felt cute but didn't know if Sandor would even appreciate it.

"A friend," Sansa murmured. She was growing more and more nervous as she approached the door of the room where Sandor no doubt already was inside staring out the window.

"It must be someone special. You hardly bake for anyone."

"I wasn't particularly nice to this friend, and I'm hoping this will help him forgive me."

Jeyne's eyes grew wide. "I didn't know you liked someone. Who is it?"

"Jeyne," Sansa sighed, not wanting to get into this conversation right now. She wanted to be bold enough to tell everyone she liked Sandor, more than just a friend. Still, she wasn't ready to do that at the moment. She was still a coward.

"Fine, but you better tell me who it is eventually. I have to get to class. I'll see you at practice."

"See you."

Sansa stood outside her classroom, taking a deep breath and walked in. Of course, Sandor was already in his seat. Burly arms crossed over his chest as he gazed outside. He wore a black t-shirt that hugged his biceps, highlighting just how broad his shoulders and chest were. His neck was so enticing. She had half a mind to go over to him, lean in, and see if his skin tasted as good as he looked. She could feel wetness seeping out of her. It warmed her skin.

She quickly walked over to him, figuring it wouldn't be healthy to keep standing there getting hot and bothered over him.

"Hey," she blurted, feeling her face go crimson.

He didn't acknowledge her. He kept staring outside. She stirred uncomfortably, trying to grasp his attention with her peace offering.

"Sandor, I'm sorry about Saturday."

"I'm sure you are," he muttered.

"I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Thank you for stating the obvious. Are you done?" He finally looked up at her. She tried everything to keep the hurt out of her eyes, but he must have seen it because his eyes softened just a little bit.

"I made you cupcakes," she stammered, holding them out to him instead of placing them on his desk like a normal person.

His stormy gaze looked at the proffered gift. "Why?"

"I'm sorry. I know I must sound like a broken record, but I want to make things right," she paused, swallowing hard, and took a calming breath. "I want to be your friend, Sandor."

She set the cupcakes down, her arms starting to hurt from holding them towards him. "You want to be my friend?"

"Yes."

He narrowed his eyes at her, his lips pressing together, and she didn't miss the way his body had stiffened. The veins racing through his forearms stood on end, and that vein in his neck had begun to throb. She wanted to sink her teeth in and feel just how hard it pounded.

He didn't believe a word she was saying. She could tell by the way he stared at her. His eyes were hardening back into that impenetrable barrier that would signal he was completely closed off to her.

"I know I have said and done things that might not be forgivable, but I'm going to try to be a better person. I am." She fiddled with a strand of curly hair and nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to assuage her racing nerves.

She stepped closer to his desk, and he straightened slightly in his chair. There was nowhere to get around her without causing a scene. "Could you possibly give me another chance?"

He searched her eyes, trying to find something to signal she was lying. When he found nothing, he let out an exasperated noise and ran his fingers along the side of his head. She saw a particular flash of disappointment cross his face when he met shorn hair. She remembered that he always had his hair shoulder-length in the past. It had come as a surprise when he cut it. She wondered why he did in the first place but didn't think it was appropriate to ask.

"I don't know if we can be friends, Sansa."

"We could try."

Sandor stroked the nape of his neck, casting his eyes away from her. "I don't know what it means to be a friend."

"Sandor," Sansa murmured. She didn't understand what he meant.

He met her eyes. "I've never had a friend before."

The comment tugged at her heartstrings. She put a radiant smile on her face and watched as he looked at her with a sense of what could be awe. "Don't worry about that. We'll talk and hang out. We'll get to know each other. That's what friends do."

Sandor said nothing for a moment or two. "Thanks for the cupcakes," he rumbled, his voice low and deep, sending a bolt of heat through her.

"Of course, let me know how you like them," she insisted.

"I will. Also, I can't meet up this Wednesday. I should have let you know earlier."

Sansa shook her head. "It's okay. We'll meet up on Thursday?"

A sad smile settled on his face. "Yeah."

She wanted to know what had caused him to look so sad, but she knew it was too soon to invade his personal life. She went to her desk and watched as he stared at the cupcakes for the rest of the class.

∞

Sandor waited outside Anne's school. She had to talk to her teacher again. So, he was left to stand there, staring at the cupcakes Sansa had made him. He didn't understand why she was trying so hard to be his friend. She seemed perfectly fine up there on her high horse, making him feel like a dog desperate for attention and love. Now, she had almost become an entirely different person over the course of a day. He didn't know if she was playing a cruel trick on him. It was hard to trust her after everything, but he had always had a big heart. It was what tended to get him into trouble.

Anne bounded up to him, noticing the cupcakes. "Those look amazing. Who made them for you?"

"Sansa."

Anne's brows rose high on her head. "Why?"

Sandor shrugged, beginning to walk, Anne getting the hint to do the same. "She wants to be my friend."

"Friend?" Anne shrieked. Sandor flinched from the high pitched sound.

"Yes."

Anne huffed. "That girl doesn't know the first thing about being a friend."

Sandor used his free hand to mess up her hair. She swatted at him, giving him the evil eye. "You don't like her, huh?"

She lifted her chin, giving a slight shake of her head. "She was cruel to you, and anyone cruel to my big brother gains no favor with me."

"I think we should give her another chance."

"Why?" She said incredulously.

"I think she's not as mean as she pretends to be."

"She's a snobby rich girl, isn't that what you called her before?" Anne smirked up at him.

"Okay, perhaps I called her that among other things, but you know me, I'm quick to forgive."

Anne's smile fell away. "Yes, that's why I worry about you."

They arrived at their house. "I have homework to do," Anne declared and ran straight to her room, shutting the door.

Sandor knew she wasn't happy with him deciding to be friends with Sansa. He hoped she would come around sooner than later.

He could use a friend after being alone for so long. Sansa may not have been his first choice, but she seemed to be trying to make amends.

He set the cupcakes down, taking off the plastic wrap, and grabbed one. Even though he had never particularly been fond of sweets, he found himself eagerly pulling the liner away from the cupcake. It was red velvet, and he wasted no time sinking his teeth into it. The taste was enough to make him groan, taking another large bite. He had never thought he would fancy the taste of cream cheese on a cupcake, but before he knew it, the cupcake was gone. He sucked the remaining remnants of cake off his fingers, savoring every morsel of it.

"Fuck," he muttered. Sansa sure knew what she was doing when it came to sweets. As a kid, he had never been fond of candy, cake, or anything that had an overload of sugar in it. Sansa could hand him any baked good, and he would devour it without hesitation.

"What you eating, son?" Sandor straightened where he stood, his shoulders immediately pulling back in a defensive stance.

"It was a cupcake."

"Cupcake? You've never liked sweets." Sandor was almost surprised that his dad knew that about him. He didn't think the old man paid attention to him.

"A friend made them for me."

"I see. Was your friend a cute redhead with a tight ass?" Sandor's hands tensed by his sides, the muscle under his right eye began to twitch.

"Her name is Sansa."

His dad let out a sharp laugh. "So, you do know who I'm talking about? I guess I'm not the only one checking out her sweet assets."

Sandor gritted his teeth, realizing his dad was just reeling him in with that question. "She's a friend. Nothing more."

"Are you going to keep lying to yourself, son? I saw the way she got all close to you, pressing her pretty little tits against your arm. Fuck, son, you don't even know what to do with a babe like her, do you?" His dad taunted him, bringing his beer to his mouth, taking a messy drink of it, moving closer to Sandor.

Sandor was trembling. He could still feel the stickiness of the cupcake on his fingers, unable to wash his hands before his dad barged in. He was breathing shallowly, chest rising and falling faster as his dad stood right in front of him.

"Dad, please, just stop," he pleaded. Sandor never begged, especially not to his pathetic dad, but right now, he couldn't handle this banter. He had too much on his plate, and he just wanted to enjoy something good for once. Sansa's cupcake had made him happy, and he ached to hold onto that feeling just for a little bit. That had all gone out the window the moment his dad opened his mouth.

"You've never been in a woman, have you, son?" His dad crushed the beer can in his hand and threw it off to the side. Sandor pressed back further into the counter behind him, feeling it digging into his lower back.

"Dad, I-I, please," he whispered, feeling the warmth of tears behind his eyes. He pressed his lips together, overwhelmed by his dad's volatile expression.

"You are a fucking pathetic excuse for a man. You want that redhead? Huh? You fucking take her. You push her down on her dainty little knees, and you take what you want. That's what Clegane men do."

Sandor let out a soft sob, shaking his head, unable to listen to another word his dad had to say. He was breathing so hard it hurt. He was sure he was about to pass out. He grasped the counter for balance. His dad grabbed the nape of his neck. Sandor tried to push him off but found he was too weak even to stand. He was broken down by the thought of what his father must have done to his mother. He couldn't bear the thought of his beautiful mom being forced upon by a man like his father. It had him swallowing the vomit that rose in his throat.

"No, dad, I would never hurt her. I would never do that to her!" Sandor thundered, earning a fist to the jaw.

"You fucking pussy. I can't believe I was left with a fucking idiot like you for a son." Another fist landed on Sandor's cheek. His dad threw him to the ground, sitting on top of him and began to rain fists down on him. Sandor blocked as many as he could, blindly reaching out to grasp his dad's wrists.

"Stop, dad, stop," Sandor weakly said.

The flurry of punches halted, a hand gripped his throat, and Sandor forced his eyes open even though it hurt like hell to do so.

"You are no son of mine." He shoved his face to the side and got off of him. Sandor didn't move. He heard his dad open the fridge, and the sound of a beer being cracked open before his retreating footsteps declared he had left the kitchen.

Sandor managed to get to his feet, going straight to the bathroom he turned the shower on and locked the door behind him. He stripped to nothing and stood under the icy water watching as blood swirled down the drain. He had gotten lucky with how many punches he did manage to block. His cheek and jaw would swell. Other than that, the cut on his forehead was what was causing all the blood. He prodded at the wound, feeling that it wasn't deep, meaning he didn't need stitches.

He let his arm fall back to his side. His body became wracked by sobs, and before he knew it, he was sitting down in the shower, letting the cold water rain down on his skin. He felt broken. He wanted to escape but knew that wasn't an option at the moment. He covered his face with his hands, trying to stifle the sounds of his cries.

The thought of Sansa's bright smile, peering down at him, came to mind. Her big blue eyes were gazing at him with hope shimmering in them. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she set the cupcakes on his desk and bit down on her plush lower lip. She had looked so pretty, like a goddess. He let his head fall back against the tiles knowing it was the wrong course for his mind to take. He shouldn't be thinking about her, not when he was desperate to escape his current emotions. However, the thought of her was enough to calm his erratic breathing and cries, the cold replaced with warmth.

He shoved his fingers into his hair, stopping his train of thoughts, and focused on anything but her beauty.

He would meet with the MC on Wednesday. They would tell him if he got to live or die. If he lived, he would try to be a friend to Sansa, and if he died, he could only hope that she would get his sister to safety.

He closed his eyes and sat in the shower until the icy water didn't faze him anymore.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	11. Blossom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for sticking with me through all this angst! We are going to be slowly getting into more fluffy territory, but there will still be some heavy themes! I appreciate all the support and all of your comments are giving me life in these trying times! 
> 
> Much love <3

_**A frozen heart beat under the snow** _   
_**I've been waiting, ready to grow** _   
_**Shivering and weathering storms** _   
_**Dreaming of some other place warm** _

Sandor didn't go to school the next day. He still walked Anne to school and picked her up after, but he couldn't see Sansa. Not when he was fucked up on the inside and outside.

He may never see her again after today. He was walking to his fate after a week living in turmoil of the inevitable. The location was a few miles from where he lived. He walked by the thorny shrubs that tore at his skin, a sign he was about to step into territory where he didn't belong.

It was another mile before he arrived at the gates of the address written on the piece of paper Tormund handed him. It was no more than a chain-link fence keeping him out. A 'Do not Enter' sign was slapped on the front of it, and right under it was a 'Beware of Dog' sign. He didn't know if he was supposed to go in. He could see the line of motorcycles outside what looked like a bar and a more substantial house off to the side of it. He assumed it was their clubhouse.

"You lost, boy?" An older man with an eye patch over his right came over to the gate, looping his fingers into the holes of the fence.

"I'm Sandor Clegane. I'm here to meet with your club."

The man's blonde brows rose slightly. "Ah, the one and only Sandor Clegane, yes, we've been expecting you."

The man pulled out a key and unlocked the gate, opening it, and beckoned Sandor in with a hand covered with grease. Sandor swallowed down the fear that had butterflies swarming around in his stomach. He stepped forward past the gate just enough for the man to close it behind him. A hand gently patted his back, startling Sandor.

"Easy, son. I'm Beric. I'm the vice president."

"Nice to meet you," Sandor stammered, trying but failing to remain calm.

"Follow me." Sandor's legs felt like jelly as he began to follow Beric towards the building that had to be their private bar. His heart was thundering like a stampede of buffalos. The hair on his nape and arms was lifting, and sweat was beading at his hairline.

He realized his breath had gone shallow and rapid as he stepped inside the bar, and too many sets of eyes landed on him. At least five guys sat at the bar, off to the side a couple more were playing video games shouting at one another. Another set of four guys were playing pool while a couple of ladies were all over them. Some lounged on a couch, staring at him as they sipped on their beers.

" _Fuck_ ," he mumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He cast his eyes to the ground, not sure what the hell to do with himself.

"So, this is the kid who sold on our turf, eh?" A man at the bar said humor, tinting his tone. His brown hair slicked back. His deep-set blue eyes did a once-over of Sandor, and a smile developed on his face. It was sly like he knew something Sandor didn't. Perhaps he did.

"I guess so," a female voice spoke. Sandor watched as a woman with short blonde hair approached him. She was tall, only a couple inches shorter than him. Her eyes were icy blue, and she was quite beautiful in an unconventional way. She wore a vest, and he discerned she was a part of the club and not some side piece like the women who were sidling up to the men playing pool. She wore a long-sleeved back shirt under the vest and leather pants paired off with combat boots. Sandor decided she was pretty badass looking, and he was sure if push came to shove, she could kick his ass too.

"The motherfucker is huge. I guess there are two people in this world taller than you, Brienne." A young brown-haired guy grinned. He couldn't possibly be much older than Sandor. He wore a vest, but when he turned back to the video games he was playing, a patch said prospect across the top. 

Brienne merely quirked her lips up and moved past Sandor to sit on the couch next to an older gentleman. The man handed her his beer, rising to his feet, and Sandor warily peered at him as he moved to stand before Sandor. It was almost like looking into a mirror. The man was probably a centimeter shorter than Sandor, grey eyes pierced into him, and his dark hair mixed with white. The man was burly. He looked like a machine that could break Sandor with one well-placed punch.

Sandor stepped backward, the man's grey eyes snapped down at the movement and then ventured back up to his eyes. "You're shaking," the man's deep voice rumbled.

Laughter filled the room at the man's comment. Sandor wanted to disappear, his cheeks burned, and he could feel sweat slipping down his back. "Shut the fuck up," the man growled at the men and women, immediately everyone ceased their laughter. Silence filled the room once more except for Sandor's erratic breathing.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't want to die," Sandor whispered. The sting of tears burned behind his eyes, but he would not let them fall. Not in front of all these people who would grasp onto his every weakness.

"I'm not going to kill you, boy."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to give you a chance to earn your place in this club. I need a new Enforcer, and you have the potential to be that for me. Still, you'll have to earn the trust of the club, but you're not going to be a prospect. I will work with you first hand in learning everything, and once the club warms up to you, then you can take your place as my enforcer."

"You can't be fucking serious, Zane?" The man at the bar stood up fiercely.

"Sit the fuck back down, Bronn. If anyone wants to stand up to me, you can discuss it at our next meeting."

Bronn immediately sat down, grumbling something under his breath.

"Why?" Sandor asked, taken entirely off guard by the offer presented to him. It wasn't exactly the path he had wanted for himself, but if it meant that Anne would be safe and he could earn some money, then he would say yes without hesitation.

The man known as Zane turned his grey eyes back to Sandor. One side of his lips curved into a half-smile. "I know you didn't know any better when you sold on my turf. Also, I have no desire to kill a boy who is also taking care of something quite precious. Your sister, how old is she?"

Sandor searched the man's eyes and only found kindness. It was not something he was used to, not from men that looked like him. "She's thirteen."

"And what's her name?"

"Anne."

"You love her?"

"More than anything," Sandor expressed. The man's eyes softened by measures.

"Tormund was right. You are just a big softie even though your looks would say otherwise."

Zane reached his fingertips to the burn on Sandor's face. It took a lot out of him to not flinch away from the touch. "Who did this to you?" His grey eyes moved to his swollen jaw and black eye.

"My dad."

All the softness that had been in Zane's eyes vanished, replaced with what could only be described as unkempt fury.

"We'll take care of him in time. What days are you free, kid?"

Sandor didn't know what to say to the first comment. He could feel the violence that arose in the room at what Zane said. A few of the meaner looking guys smiled at one another as if they had just smelled fresh blood. Sandor had a gut feeling they meant to kill his dad, and as much as he wanted to say he was opposed to the idea, he couldn't. His dad would be better off dead.

"I work with my partner for school Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but I got my little sister to take care of."

"She can come. I'll have my old lady take care of her when you're with us. I'm going to teach you how to fight and other shit that isn't as important right now. We'll meet every Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday from five to eight in the evening. Does that work for you?"

Sandor nodded. "Alright, then it's settled. I'll be taking you directly under my wing. My vice president Beric, my sergeant at arms Bronn, and my road captain Tormund will also all be working with you. If I have somewhere to be, then any one of them will take my place."

Sandor watched as Zane pointed at Beric, the man he first met at the gate. Then to Bronn, who sat at the bar with an annoyed expression plastered on his face, and lastly at Tormund, who wore a goofy smile and waved at Sandor when Zane pointed at him.

"I understand," Sandor asserted, reaching into his pocket and pulled out the money he had earned for selling on their turf.

Zane peered down at the money, a smile appeared on his face, and he shook his head, pushing the money back towards Sandor. "No, you keep that. I know you were earning it for a reason."

"Thank you, sir." Sandor pocketed it once more, grateful he could continue to save it for Anne.

"Of course, kid. We'll meet starting next week. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you need a ride home? Tormund can drive you."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you." Tormund bounded up to him, standing on tip-toe to wrap his arm around Sandor's shoulders.

"Let's get you on home," he exclaimed, and Sandor couldn't help but smile.

"So, he can smile," Brienne groused, taking a sip of the beer Zane had handed her.

Sandor ignored the off-hand comment, letting Tormund pull him to a black pick-up truck. He got inside and was glad he could stretch his legs out for once.

Beric opened the gate for Tormund, and they began the drive back to Sandor's place.

"The boss likes you," Tormund declared, taking a sip of his energy drink before placing it back into the cupholder.

"I doubt that," Sandor mumbled.

"Trust me. Most guys would have-" he gestured towards his head with his fingers in the shape of a gun.

"You guys kill people?" Sandor had never been one for violence. He had learned that brutality only created more hate and anger. It didn't solve anything in the end.

Tormund lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Only when we have to. We've had some guys betray our club. We can't just let them go. There's a process, but we have enemies, and sometimes it's better to snuff them out versus letting them live. Zane doesn't take lightly to people moving in on his turf. He has a reputation to uphold. Most people don't sell on our turf. That's why you were a rarity, but you're also just a kid. Zane has a soft spot for kids. He lost his son at an early age. He was having an affair, and he had a love child, but the mom disappeared. Never saw the kid again."

Tormund's demeanor shifted into one of despondency. "He wasn't the same after that. I was just a kid when he was off doing that shit, but my old man is his best friend. He had to watch his friend go on drunken binges. Zane couldn't run the club for a while, but my old man was his VP. He had his back until he got himself killed, protecting Zane. My dad dying kicked Zane's ass into gear. He took back his club and swore that one day he would find his lost long son. He has yet to do that, but we'll see."

Sandor was not used to people pouring their hearts out to him. Tormund was a different breed, and something told Sandor that they were going to become fast friends. "How old was his kid when he lost him?"

"I was probably ten at the time, and his son would have been about two when he vanished with his mom."

"Did they try to find the kid?"

"Yes, but it's like he fell off the map. They think his mom changed his name, and no matter how hard they searched for him, they couldn't find a trace of him."

"That must have been difficult to accept."

"It was, but I think he'll find him."

Tormund parked in front of Sandor's house. He gazed over at him, taking in Sandor's features, and his brows furrowed in the middle. "I'll see you soon, Sandor."

Sandor wasn't entirely sure what the look on Tormund's face meant, but he figured he'd find out sooner than later. "See you." He stepped out of the truck and headed to his door.

Tormund hadn't left yet. Sandor waved at him, and he waved back, driving off once Sandor was inside.

"Where were you?" Anne raced up to him the minute he shut the door. She grasped onto his shirt, digging her forehead into his stomach.

He chuckled, running his palm over the back of her head. "I was handling business with the club."

"Who dropped you off? I didn't recognize that truck."

"It was just a member of the club. A friend."

"When did you suddenly acquire a bunch of friends?" She scowled up at him.

"Recently and I'll probably be gaining more. Let's talk in my room, okay?"

She let go of him, grabbing his hand as they walked into his room. She sat on his bed, crossing her legs in front of her, waiting for him to talk.

"I'm going to be working with the club from now on. They're going to be training me. I start Monday. I'll be going there three times a week, and Zane, the president, said you could come too and hang out with his old lady."

Sandor was not prepared for Anne to leap off his bed and wrap her arms around his neck. "They're not going to kill you?"

He hoisted her into his arms. "No, we're safe."

She pulled back slightly, searching his eyes. "Will you have to hurt people?"

"I don't know, Anne, but as I've said a million times before, your safety is all that matters. I'm going to keep you safe, and when you graduate high school, I'm going to get you into whatever college you want, and you're going to become a doctor just like you said you would."

Tears formed at Anne's eyes, she snuggled her face into his neck, hiding from him. "I love you, Sandor."

"I love you too, Anne."

"Don't get yourself killed, okay?"

He shook his head. "Never."

She held him closer, and for once, Sandor felt at peace with the knowledge his life wasn't over just yet.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxo


	12. I Don't Want To Change You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with the comments I've received thus far! It seriously brightens my day and I am forever grateful for all your guy's support!
> 
> Thank you and much love <3

**_Wherever you go_ **   
**_Well, I can always follow_ **   
**_I can feed this real slow_ **   
**_If it's a lot to swallow_ **   
**_And if you just want to be alone_ **   
**_Well, I can wait without waiting_ **   
**_If you want me to let this go_ **   
**_Well, I'm more than willing_ **

Sansa stared at herself in the school mirror, fixing her make-up, and applied more red lipstick. She didn't know why she was even trying at this point to look so fancy. Sandor hadn't shown up to school on Tuesday or Wednesday. She wasn't even sure he would be at school today, but she hoped so. It had been strange not seeing his face.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, where it had begun to tighten with a feeling she couldn't put into words. It was a feeling she didn't quite understand.

She smoothed down her plaid pleated skirt and adjusted her white long-sleeved crop top. She heaved a sigh and headed to class. Her heart fluttered in her chest when she saw Sandor sitting at his desk.

Before she could stop herself, she was standing before his desk, beaming down at him. His grey eyes snapped attentively to hers, and he sat back in his chair. Her smile fell when she saw the fading bruise beneath his eye and the one that was on his jaw. It had bloomed into an ugly purple-blue color, shades of yellow hinting that it was beginning to heal.

"Did your dad do that to you?" she fumed. She could feel the adrenaline beginning to course through her. She was enraged that his dad felt like he could use Sandor as a punching bag. There was a time when she would have turned a blind eye to the bruises upon his skin. Now, she was turning over a new leaf and wanted him to see that she did care. She didn't want him to be harmed.

He let out a harsh breath, clasping both hands behind his head. The muscles in his biceps rippled as he did so, and Sansa couldn't look away from the glorious sight. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. I'll live."

She slammed both palms down on his desk, and he jolted in his seat. "It does matter, Sandor. He shouldn't be allowed to lay his hands on you like that. Why don't you call the cops?"

Sandor scoffed. "The cops won't do anything for me. I'm a Clegane growing up in the shady part of town. Cops don't give a fuck about guys like me getting beat by their dad."

She leaned forward, his eyes darted down and then back up to her face. His tongue slid across his lips quickly, but Sansa tracked the movement like a hawk to its prey. She noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, his chest starting to rise and fall slightly faster. "I care, and I don't want that bastard to wind up killing you."

He shook his head, swallowing again. "That won't happen. He's too much of a coward to end me." Sandor's voice was low and husky. It made Sansa's skin tingle, and she did her best to hide the way she rubbed her thighs together. His gaze darted down, fixated on her skirt. She saw his pupils dilate, swallowing up the grey.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she murmured, her palms sliding further up his desk.

"I won't. I promise," he rasped, tearing his gaze away from her to look out the window.

The sound of students filing in had her standing straight. Whatever had been transpiring between them, now broken. She smoothed her hair back. Her skin was throbbing with too much adrenaline and something else.

"I'll pick you up after practice?"

He nodded, and she took her seat. She had to stop herself from squirming in her chair due to the wetness in her panties. She was aching and had an overwhelming need to be filled. She covered her face with her hands. She tried and failed to steer her thoughts away from the desire coursing through her.

For the rest of class she kept telling herself she had to be a friend and nothing more.

∞

Sandor opened Sansa's door and folded his body inside. However, the seat was already all the way pushed back, and he found his legs comfortably stretching out in front of him. He peered over at Sansa to see she had changed back to what she was wearing earlier. It was almost too much to take witnessing her in that little plaid skirt that showed off her pretty pale thighs. He muttered thanks and put his seat belt on. He had to force his attention forward to avoid staring at all the flesh she was revealing to his eager gaze.

"Of course," she responded with a warm smile.

Silence filled the car for a moment or two until he found his voice. "The cupcakes were delicious by the way," he blurted and blushed instantly at his outburst.

"I'm glad you liked them! It was a new recipe, so I wasn't completely sure how they would turn out," she reacted enthusiastically.

He glanced over at her to see a broad smile on her face. He concluded that when Sansa smiled, she was even more enchanting than before. It did things to his heart, and it wasn't particularly something he enjoyed. He couldn't catch feelings for Sansa. Desire was one thing, but love would destroy him.

"They were great," he stated dumbly, rubbing at the nape of his neck as his face continued to burn.

"I'll make you a different flavor next time, okay?"

"Sure."

They arrived at her house, both getting out and heading inside.

Arya was bounding down the stairs the moment they walked in. Her face lit up when she saw Sandor. He didn't quite understand why anyone would be happy to see him, but it wound up making his lips tilt up just a tad.

"Hey, Sandor! It's nice to see you again," she exclaimed, hopping down right in front of him. She was tiny, several inches shorter than Anne who was younger than her. She was wearing a tank-top, and he could see the definition in her arms. She may be little, but she could probably kick his ass.

"Um, yeah, nice to see you too," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, glad to feel that it was beginning to grow.

"We're about to eat dinner. Mom insisted on making a special meal just for you, Sandor. Will you guys join us?"

"She didn't have to do that," Sandor spoke softly, making little to no eye contact with the girl smiling happily up at him.

"She insisted," Arya remarked, grasping onto his hand and tugging him towards the kitchen.

Sandor peered over his shoulder, giving Sansa a look to help him. She hid a smile behind her hand, and he could tell she was smothering a laugh behind it as well. He was dragged into the kitchen to see everyone at the dining table, conversing loudly to one another.

Arya let go of him, allowing him to straighten to his full height. The movement caught the eye of everyone at the table. Now, he was standing there feeling like an idiot as they all stared at him. His neck was growing warm. He rubbed it absentmindedly, trying to assuage the burning of his skin. Sansa came up beside him and he felt a little less frightened by the unwavering stares of her brothers and cousin.

"This is Sandor," Sansa announced.

"Oh, Sandor, I'm glad you're here. Dinner is almost ready," Catelyn chimed. She gave him a warm smile that he felt was unwarranted for someone who seemed not too fond of him only about a week ago. He didn't know what transpired between then and now, but it appeared that Sansa had said something to her mom for her to have a sudden change of heart.

"Thank you. It's appreciated." He shoved his hands into his pockets so he'd at least stop clenching and unclenching them due to how tense he felt.

"Come sit, Sandor." Arya beckoned to a seat beside her. He strode over, taking a seat, and Sansa sat next to him.

"I'm Jon." The guy with midnight hair and even darker eyes said, giving Sandor a small nod.

"I'm Robb." Sandor turned his attention away from Jon, noticing the subtle hint of distaste in Robb's voice. He resembled his mom too. His hair was a mix of brown and red, his clean-cut beard following suit. The only difference was that his eyes were a deeper blue versus Sansa's and Catelyn's vibrant blues. Robb fiddled with a fork in one hand while the other lay in a fist. He was clenching it so hard that his knuckles had bled into white.

Sandor raised his gaze from the clenched fist to his face regarding the slight twitch of his brow. Robb had no fondness for Sandor. He looked away from Sandor and glimpsed down at his plate. Sandor perceived that as a hint to stop looking at him.

"I'm Bran," the young boy with glasses proclaimed and then went back to the book he was reading.

"I'm Rickon," the youngest boy said shyly, his dimples noticeable when he cast a gentle smile at Sandor.

"Nice to meet you all," Sandor replied, rubbing his palms on his thighs to rid himself of the sweat that had started to form.

Sansa stood up, going into the kitchen, and began to help her mom place dishes on the table. The smell was intoxicating. It took a ton of strength not to groan. His mouth had started to water taking in the steamed vegetables that lay around an assortment of grilled chicken. There was a big bowl of salad placed on the table, along with a variety of dressings. A bowl of croutons was set next to them all. He was so busy admiring the food he hadn't noticed another presence enter the room.

"Ah, Sandor. So nice to see you again," Petyr uttered loudly, but Sandor could detect the sarcasm in his tone.

He flicked his gaze over to the man who sat at the head of the table. That same sly smirk flitted across his weasel face. Sandor pressed his lips together with a slight frown. He had almost forgotten that piece of shit existed. Sansa leaned over to place napkins on the table, and Sandor saw Petyr's eyes flick down. Sandor followed the path and immediately gritted his teeth, seeing exactly where that pervert was staring. Sansa took her seat, and Petyr shifted his attention back to Sandor. His smirk only grew when he saw the murderous glare upon Sandor's face.

"You okay?" Sansa whispered, leaning into him.

Sandor wiped the anger off his face and replaced it with what he hoped was a neutral expression. "Fine. Thanks."

Catelyn sat at the opposite side of Petyr. "We'll say grace, and then we can all dig in. I hope you enjoy, Sandor."

"I'm sure I will."

Catelyn prayed. Sandor had never been one for religion, but he respectfully bowed his head, and when she said Amen, he muttered it too.

"Guests go first," Catelyn said, clasping her hands together in front of her.

"Oh, no, ladies should go first," he insisted.

"So, he's a gentleman, what a surprise," Robb muttered, twirling his fork in his hands.

"Be polite," Catelyn chided. "That's very kind of you, Sandor. Go ahead, Arya."

Sandor didn't miss the cold look Robb shot his way. He chose to ignore it. It wasn't worth his time to glare back.

Arya wasted no time in grabbing chicken and a heaping of salad on her plate. Sansa went next, and just like a little bird placed one slab of chicken down and a small portion of salad. Once everyone had food on their plate, everyone began eating eagerly and chatting with one another. 

Sandor did his best to have manners. He had never been instilled with them. His father didn't care if he ate like a dog. Sandor couldn't even count on his fingers how many times he licked his bowl of oatmeal clean, desperate for any remaining morsel. Now, he patiently cut into his chicken, taking small bites even though it was against his better nature to do so.

"So, Sandor, what do you like to do for fun?" Catelyn asked. It was innocent enough of a question, but Sandor had never really known the meaning of fun. He had lived most of his life fighting to survive. He chose the only thing that could come to mind.

"Hanging with my little sister mostly and working out."

Jon and Robb both gave each other a look and broke out into soft laughter. Sandor knew the two pretty boys hadn't ever had to worry about where their next meal would come from or if their father was going to beat their ass to a pulp that night. He didn't take their laughter personally. He understood that they were well off and lived comfortable lives. He couldn't fault them for their privilege or their ignorance.

"How much do you lift?" Robb probed.

Sandor knew it was a question to poke fun at him. "More than you," he countered, taking a bite of his chicken.

A scowl settled on Robb's face, his cheeks turning crimson. Jon was stifling laughter behind his hand. Robb did something to him under the table, and Jon yelped, pushing Robb's shoulder.

"That fucking hurt," Jon lamented.

"Language," Catelyn said, exasperated.

"Stop being dicks," Arya griped. Catelyn sighed loudly, pressing a palm to her forehead.

"Keep out of it, small fry. The adults are talking," Robb snapped, a taunting glint in his eyes, causing them to appear more black than blue.

"Make me," Arya ridiculed right back.

"Enough of this nonsense,” Catelyn said to her children and turned her attention to Sandor. “I think it's sweet that you like hanging out with your sister.”

Sandor only nodded, finishing the rest of the food. "Thanks for the meal."

"Will this be your last one for a while?" Robb asked.

Sandor couldn't hide his annoyance anymore, flashing a dark look at him. "Do you have a problem with me?"

There was an undeniable tension that filled the room the moment those words flitted out of Sandor's mouth.

Robb stood, placing his palms on the table. "I do. You don't belong in our home. I know what boys your age want, and if you think you're going to touch my sister, then you have another thing coming to you."

"Robb! That is _enough_ ," Catelyn shouted, standing to her feet.

"You're a loser, Clegane, and you will die one. Do you _actually_ think my sister is going to touch filth like you? You're delusional!"

Suddenly, Catelyn's hand crashed down on Robb's cheek, causing his head to whip to the side. He shook where he stood, raising his hand to where she had hit him. He looked like a lost puppy as he searched her eyes. He ran out of the room without another word.

Sandor was breathing hard, feeling out of his element. He was so embarrassed that it had his chest tightening.

Catelyn's arm lowered to her side. Her eyes were worried when she glanced at Sandor. "I'm so sorry about that, Sandor."

Sandor stood on shaky legs. Sansa was on her feet too. "Sandor, I'm so sorry," she stammered sweetly. "I can't believe he said that."

The entire table was watching him with different expressions on their face. Bran and Rickon quickly scurried off, and Arya was out of the room next, stomping up the stairs. He figured she was about to give Robb an earful. Jon kept his gaze down as he started cleaning up the overlooked dishes.

"I truly hope that you don't think differently of us," Catelyn murmured and began helping Jon.

"Bathroom," Sandor whispered to Sansa.

Her eyes were full of guilt as she told him it was around the corner. He nodded and bolted out of the room. He found it quickly, locking it behind him, and bathed his face in cold water. He gripped the edges of the sink, calming his frantic breathing. Once he was sure he could function like a normal human again, he opened the door and stepped back when he saw Petyr standing in front of him.

Sandor glimpsed to the side, noting the bathroom was in an abandoned corner of the house. No one would notice them if they walked past, and he knew Petyr understood that full well.

"Robb isn't wrong, Sandor."

"I could care less what either one of you has to say. I know what you guys think of me. I'm just trash, and that's fine. I'm not here because of you guys." Sandor folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the weasel before him.

Petyr's lip curled in disgust. "Ah, yes, you're here for Sansa."

Sandor did not like where this conversation was heading. The look in his eyes reminded him too much of his dad's. "We're working on a project together. That's why I'm here."

"She's been putting on skimpier clothing lately and wearing her pretty red lipstick. This past couple of days, she came home looking so disappointed. I thought it was because school was a drag or something along those lines. Then I saw how radiant she looked today, staring at you." Petyr's eyes hardened.

"I don't know what you want me to say to that."

"If you think you're going to fuck her, Sandor, you're dead wrong. If I even hear that you put a single finger on her, I'll make you regret the day you were born."

Sandor's jaw clenched violently. His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer to Petyr, fisting a handful of his shirt and dragged him onto his tip-toes. Fear flashed in Petyr's eyes, but he held his chin high, not backing down- _yet_.

A cruel smirk curled Sandor's lips. "You want to know what I'm going to do to that pretty little bird, Petyr?"

"Don't you fucking dare say another word," Petyr spluttered.

Sandor chuckled grimly and let Petyr go. The man's threats were hollow, and Sandor no longer feared the wrath of feeble men like his father or Petyr. He pushed him aside and began to walk off. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "I'm sure you would like to know you fucking pervert."

Petyr's eyes flared with anger, but Sandor turned away, flipping him off as he went. He arrived back in the kitchen. Everyone was gone except for Sansa, who jumped to her feet when he approached.

"I'm so sorry."

"Hush with your apologies, little bird. It's not your fault."

Sansa fiddled with a strand of her hair, eyes cast down in shame. "Robb is an asshole. Don't take anything he says to heart."

"I don't care what he has to say."

Her gaze flashed up to his. "Good because he doesn't know what he is talking about." He saw the fire in her eyes and smiled at that. It must have caught her off guard because her eyes widened, and then she broke out into a smile too. His stomach felt like it was in knots when she looked at him like that. It made him feel like she did care, that he mattered. 

"It's already eight," she said with a soft sigh. "I guess we can work on the project tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's fine by me." He didn't want her to have to drive him home late, especially not where he lived. He didn't think it would be good if she drove around those streets past nine.

They didn't talk on the drive home, but surprisingly it wasn't awkward. It felt relaxed in the car even though dinner surely hadn't been.

He appreciated Catelyn's hospitality. He could tell she truly loved Sansa and was trying to welcome him into her home. He admired Arya's tenacity. She was a little spitfire with a sharp tongue. She wasn't afraid to be anyone but herself.

The two younger boys were quiet, and the two older could fuck off for all he cared. Petyr was a good for nothing pervert. Sandor wanted to dispose of him in a way that he would never be found. That train of thought was not one he should be venturing down. Still, the hope that he might be able to finally dig himself out of the hole he currently resided in had given him a newfound sense of confidence. He had to stand up for himself or else he wouldn't be able to fight for those he cared about.

Sansa stopped at Sandor's house and turned her body towards him.

"Again, I'm so-"

"Little bird, stop," Sandor interrupted her. She stopped talking and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, no longer meeting his eyes.

"There's nothing you have to be sorry for, I promise."

"I just sat there and did nothing to defend you. I'm a coward."

Sandor's fingers twitched with the urge to cup her jaw and soothe the tension that had pulled her brows in at the middle. He clenched his fist instead. "You're not a coward."

"A friend doesn't just sit there while their friend gets shit on by a family member. I should have been the one to stand up for you. Not my mom. Not Arya."

Her eyes were so earnest, the light from the streetlamp illuminating her red hair. She was beautiful without even having to try. She was fiddling with the ends of her skirt, and he could see the slight tremble of her body. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

Those big blue eyes landed on him the shine of tears in them. He sucked in a sharp breath, not wanting to see her cry."Sansa, I promise I'm not upset."

Her bottom lip quivered, and suddenly she seemed so fragile, all the fire leaving her. He didn't want that. "You'll still be my friend?" she asked, looking so defeated, nothing like the spiteful girl he had known only a week ago. Suddenly, he could see the truth that lay beneath her plastic smiles and the way she tried so hard to be the girl everyone adored.

"Yes," he said ever so quietly.

"Thanks, Sandor." She gave him a watery smile. He tried his hardest to give her his best smile, not knowing if he looked charming or scary. He told her goodnight and stepped out of the car. She gave him a small wave and drove off.

He watched her leave and realized Sansa was just as lonely as him.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	13. Bleed to Love Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the support!!!
> 
> Much Love!!

**_Once again she steals away_ **  
**_Then she reaches out to kiss me_ **  
**_And how she takes my breath away_ **

When Sansa arrived home after dropping Sandor at his house, she marched up the stairs and went straight into Robb's room. As usual, Jon was there playing a game on his switch.

Robb had his glasses on and was focused on whatever was upon his screen. He was majoring in engineering and was highly intelligent. Robb had always been popular in school because he was likable and charming. People gravitated to him, but Robb also only hung out with people that were well off. Anyone who came from the wrong side of the streets Robb seemed to have a strong distaste for.

Sansa was tired of not standing up for what was right. She didn't want to be the spoiled princess anymore.

"Hi, Sansa," Jon said, alerting Robb to her presence. He swiveled around in his computer chair and took his glasses off, placing them on the desk.

Sansa disregarded Jon's hello, acknowledging it was just his way of giving Robb a heads up.

"What do you want?" Robb sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I want to talk about what happened at dinner. Do you think it was necessary to say the things you said?" Sansa planted her hands on her hips, looking down at him.

He gave a mirthless laugh, pinning her with a sharp look. "I only spoke the truth. Are you so blind that you can't see that boy only wants one thing from you?"

"You know nothing," she seethed, her hands falling to her sides.

Robb stood up, standing right in front of her. "He's trash, Sansa. He will never be anything but the kid to a drunken fool."

Tears had begun to well up in her eyes. "He is not trash. He has a good heart and cares about people, unlike you."

"You're telling me that loser cares about people? Is that what you think, Sansa? Do you think he _cares_ about you?" Robb's voice was rising in irritation.

"I _know_ he cares about me. I was not kind to him, and he gave me a chance when he didn't have to. That's how I know he is a much better person than you and I combined." She clenched her fists. Her nails were digging hard into her palms. She was sure to leave little crescent moons upon them.

Robb threw his hands up in disbelief, shaking his head like he couldn't comprehend what she was saying to him. "He is not a good guy!"

"You don't even know him!"

"And you do? Do you think he won't take advantage of you? Look at him! He could take you against your will, and there would be nothing you could do to fight him off."

She touched her hand to her heart. It was tightening in her chest and almost too painful to bear. She didn't want Robb to be so bitter towards someone he didn't even know. He was set in his ways, but if he just gave Sandor a chance, he would see that things aren't always the way they seem.

"He would never hurt me," she whispered, losing the fight to yell.

"You don't know that."

"I do. He has had multiple opportunities over the years to hurt me if he wanted to, and he never has. He would never lay a violent hand on a woman. I know this because he adores his sister. He has respect for women. Don't stand here and act like you know a single thing about him."

He said nothing for a moment, his eyes wandering over her face in search of something. His eyes slowly widened, and he blew out a labored breath. "You like him."

Sansa opened her mouth, the words she wanted to say getting caught on her tongue, she pursed her lips, and looked away from him.

"You do fucking like him. It's written all over your face."

She glowered at him, lifting her chin in defiance. "Who cares if I like him? I'm allowed to like who I want."

He plopped back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sansa, you cannot like someone who is lower status than you. It won't work."

"Get off your fucking high horse, Robb," she said, huffing out a frustrated breath.

"What do you even see in him? He's not attractive. He has nothing to offer you."

"He is extremely handsome. I didn't know you were so shallow. He's gentle, kind, and attentive. He has so much to offer that is greater than money."

"Those burns are never going away, Sansa. Gentle and kind? You're fucking kidding yourself." A tight, barely tolerant smile was playing out across his face. His brows furrowed in disbelief or confusion. Sansa wasn't quite sure.

"His burns do not scare me, and they do not detract from the fact he is attractive. I've seen the way he is around his sister. So, yes, he is gentle and kind, but I don't like repeating myself ten million times, and you don't seem like you're going to change. The next time he is here, just keep your thoughts to yourself, okay?"

Robb drummed his fingers against his biceps. "Sansa, I just don't want you to get hurt."

Sansa straightened, her shoulders no longer slumping. "Just trust me on this, Robb. I'm going to be fine."

His eyes had softened, and he let out a soft sigh. "I do trust you, Sansa. It's him I don't trust."

"I'm not expecting you two to become best friends over a day, but please, for me, just be civil. The both of you," she demanded giving Jon the eye. He was pretending like he hadn't been listening. Still, the moment she included him in the conversation, he gave a considerate smile and a nod.

"So, we're good?" Robb asked.

"For now," Sansa concluded with a smirk.

He chuckled and waved her off. She wiggled her fingers in a goodbye gesture and left to her room. She felt better about being honest and open with Robb. She knew he was better than how he had behaved at dinner. It would take time for everyone to get along. Still, she hoped it would happen sooner than later. She was tired of the tension and drama. She wanted peace between the people she cared about.

She got ready for bed, lying down on her bed, and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

∞

Sandor sat in Sansa's desk chair, scribbling down dialogue that would happen between the characters in the story. Sansa was focusing on enhancing the plot and figuring out how the murders would happen without the detective, knowing it was her best friend committing the killings.

They had been throwing ideas at one another, and Sandor was surprised how easy it was for them to work together. They both were on the same wavelength, understanding exactly how they wanted certain events to occur. They were having so much fun that the hour flew by without either one even realizing it.

Sansa closed her laptop, and Sandor stood up, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. He was starting to get a cramp from sitting down so long. He cracked his knuckles and shook his arms out, feeling not so tense anymore.

He glanced over at Sansa. She was leaning back on her palms. Her legs crossed primly to avoid giving him an eyeful. She was wearing a yellow summer dress that exposed her shoulders and the freckles that dotted them.

She was staring at him, not saying anything. Heat spanned the entire length of his body, and he could feel the blood rushing elsewhere. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I guess I should get home."

"Did you want to stay a little longer? There's no school tomorrow." He began to rock on his heels, nervous energy surging all around him. He wondered if she could tell.

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth until it whitened. He discerned she was waiting for him to answer her, but the way she was biting on her bottom lip was distracting.

"Uh, sure." He didn't want her driving him home late. It was the hopeful look in her eyes that made him want to stay. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. He figured he'd ensure she got home safe by sending her text.

A bashful smile appeared on her face. "Cool. Did you want to talk or watch a movie?"

He glanced at her bed. She couldn't possibly mean watching a movie side by side on her bed. He swallowed.

"Whatever you want." He was able to keep the tremble out of his voice even though he felt close to passing out.

"Let's talk."

He was grateful for that and sat back in her chair, getting comfortable.

"What did you want to talk about?" He had never really had long conversations with people before. He wasn't entirely sure how they worked. It was easy to talk to his sister, but that was merely due to them growing up together.

"Tell me your favorite color," she declared with a brilliant smile.

"Black," he responded with a crooked smile. "You?"

"Blue. Now you ask me something?"

"So, what exactly are we doing, playing twenty-one questions?" His brow arched.

She shrugged and fiddled with a strand of her hair. "We're getting to know one another."

"Alright, then, what would be your dream job?"

"Hm, that's a tough one. I've never really thought about what I want to be. I mean, all I've known is cheerleading, and I could get a scholarship for that, which I probably will, but if I could be anything, it would be a Judge."

"A Judge? Why?"

She grinned. "I guess from watching Judge Judy all the time as a kid. I always wanted to be as badass as her."

"That's an excellent reason to become a Judge," Sandor teased, and she rolled her eyes playfully in return.

"So, what about you, what's your dream job?"

The smile fell away from his face. "I don't have one. There's no chance of me going to college."

Sansa shook her head. "Of course, you can go to college. You can get financial aid. There are resources you can take advantage of."

"To be honest, Sansa. I got myself into some shit, and that's where my life is going for whoever knows how long. All I've ever wanted is for Anne to go to college, and she will. She'll have a good life, and I can die happy."

Sansa got off the bed, moving to stand before him. "What's going on, Sandor? What are you talking about?"

He hesitated. He didn't know if Sansa was entirely trustworthy. Still, he was about to find out with the information he was going to disclose to her.

"I'm a part of MC gang called the Night's Diablo's. I'm going to be working for them for however long they need me around. It will probably be till I die. The boss is training me to be an enforcer."

She noticeably stiffened. "That's why that guy on the motorcycle was passing by your house."

"Yeah. They were keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn't bolt."

"What about Anne?"

"Anne will be safe. They have no intention of hurting anyone I care about. They were pretty forgiving about me selling on their turf. So, when they offered me a job, I didn't say no."

"You could get yourself killed being in that line of work," she stammered, her body visibly trembling.

He stood up slowly, towering over her slight frame. She stared up at him with concern in her pretty eyes. His hand shook when he reached out and cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb over the curve of her cheek. She was so soft, and he marveled in the way she didn't pull away from him.

"I'm not going to get myself killed. I promise," he murmured. He had never been this close to a girl he liked before. He didn't even fully understand why he was touching her. He was her friend. He didn't want her to look so worried for him. Touch had felt like the only way he could convey he would be okay. She didn't have to fear what would become of him. Now, it felt wrong to be touching someone as beautiful as Sansa when he looked like the beast himself.

He moved to pull away when her hand clasped down upon the back of his, keeping his palm to her cheek. She pressed further into it, and her eyes fluttered close. Being this close to her, he could see that even her eyelashes were red. Freckles speckled over her nose, and her lips were naturally a rosy color without the lipstick she had been wearing more frequently. She was too good to be true.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and his breaths were heavy and uneven.

"I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Sandor," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

His entire body was starting to tremble at this point. He cradled her face with both hands now, thumbs stroking back and forth over her delicate skin. Every breath he took, he ended up breathing in her intoxicating scent. She smelled like vanilla with a hint of lemon.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to me." He was repeating everything she was saying. It was all he could do. He felt dizzy, holding onto a thin thread that was so close to snapping.

"Sandor." Her voice pitched slightly. Her eyes opened, and what he saw in them was enough to knock him on his ass. Her pupils had expanded, swallowing up most of the blue. Her breaths were coming out in small little pants that had him focusing way too hard on her lips.

"You should take me home," he whispered.

"Is that what you want?" She sounded so breathless.

"We're friends," he replied, his chest rising and falling much too hard.

He felt her other hand land on his stomach. He let out a harsh breath at the contact. "So, we are officially friends now?" Her lips quirked up.

"Yes," he muttered.

"Good." Her hand slipped under his shirt, her fingertips combing through the hair on his belly. Her fingers traced the hair that led into his jeans, and he couldn't handle it anymore. He jerked away from her and put his hand back into his pockets.

"I should be getting home. I don't want you to be out there so late."

She seemed disappointed. Her eyes had grown distant, and she merely nodded, grabbing her keys off her desk. She moved past him, and he followed dumbly.

The car ride was awkward, and he could practically feel the frustration rolling off of her in waves.

"Sansa," he started, but she put a hand up.

"I'm sorry. That was inappropriate of me. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what's wrong with me," she babbled, tightening her hands on her steering wheel.

"Don't apologize, little bird. I'm just confused, that's all."

She parked in front of his house, turning off the car, and gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. "I don't think you would understand what I want if it smacked you across the face." Her tone was sharp and off-putting.

He gritted his teeth and fixed her with a glare. "I'm sorry if I don't understand your fucking intentions. One moment you want to be my friend, and the next, you're looking at me and touching me like," he paused, shaking his head.

"Like what? Say it," she insisted fiercely. Her body was angled towards him now.

"Like you want me to fuck you or something," he growled vehemently.

She breathed out, hard, as if he had just sucker-punched her in the gut. He looked down at his forearms and saw the veins pronounced from his increased adrenaline. He was breathing harder than before, gazing back at her to see her lips parted, no sound coming out.

"I don't know what you want from me, Sansa." He could hear the vulnerability in his voice. He didn't enjoy how pathetic he sounded.

Sansa bent over the divider of the car, and before he could stop her progression forward, her lips pressed against his. He made a noise at the back of his throat. He had never been kissed before. It was a strange sensation feeling her soft, warm lips caressing his. He didn't even know how to react. She pulled away, sinking back into her seat, a rejected look upon her face.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered and stumbled out of her car. He couldn't look back, or else he didn't know what would happen. His entire body was on fire as he hurried up to his front door and went inside. He felt like everything was a blur as he found his way to his room. He shut the door, locking it behind him and pushed his forehead to the wood. He was panting and struggling to keep himself upright.

He was hard as stone from just a fucking kiss. His fingers shook as he traced his lips, remembering how warm hers had been. He couldn't stop himself from doing what he had wanted to do all along to thoughts of her. With his free hand, he struggled with the button of his jeans until they gave way to his desperate fumbling. He wasn't gentle when he took his cock in hand. His strokes were rough and untamed, his groans harsh and needy.

He wanted her so fucking much. He could have had her if he wasn't so afraid of that possibility. He pounded his fist against his mouth to stop himself from crying out when he felt pressure starting to build and stroked himself faster.

He wasn't proud of himself when he came with her name on his tongue.

Once he could think right again, he felt ashamed for what he had just done. He cleaned himself off quickly and got ready for bed. He bit the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood staring down at his phone. He gathered his nerve and sent her a quick text, asking if she had gotten home safely.

Her response came a moment later. A simple ' _Yeah. Thanks_."

It was all he got from her, and he had expected it, but it didn't mean it didn't sting any less.

He tossed his phone down and fell back on his bed.

He had fucked up.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	14. Don't Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, the comments I've been reading are so perfect! THANK YOU!
> 
> Much love <3

**_Don't stop thinking about tomorrow_ **  
**_Don't stop, it'll soon be here_ **  
**_It'll be, better than before_ **  
**_Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone_ **

Sandor held Anne's hand as they waited outside for Tormund to pick them up.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

Sandor gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She raised her chin to meet his gaze. "Don't be afraid. I'll be there the entire time. If you need me, you just tell Zane's old lady that you want to see me. Okay?"

She gave him a small nod, kicking at imaginary dust. Sandor encircled his arm around her shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "When did you get so damn tall," he chuckled, standing to his full height. Her lips shaped into a radiant smile.

"Someday I might be taller than you," she teased.

"You wish." She snuggled into his side. She was growing up at the speed of light. It was both fascinating and frightening. She would be in high school soon, and then that was another four years of shit that he knew all too well. She was good at making friends, unlike him. He was sure she would be fine. Still, irrational fears warred with that thought.

She had told him that he couldn't protect her forever. It didn't matter, though, because he would never stop ensuring that her safety was his top priority.

Tormund's truck roared up to the curb. He rolled his tinted window down. He was wearing a goofy grin that made Anne giggle.

"Well, what are you two waiting for?! Hop aboard!" He declared in a ridiculous voice that seemed to soothe Anne's fears. He was thankful for that. Sandor opened the door for Anne, helping her into the backseat before joining Tormund in the front.

"How's it going?" Tormund asked, checking his mirrors before pulling out into the street.

"Good. This is my sister Anne and Anne this is Tormund," he answered, introducing the pair.

"Very nice to meet you, little lady," Tormund responded cheerfully.

"Same," Anne responded shyly.

Anne and Tormund started chatting, but Sandor tuned out. He was glad they were getting along. He wanted Anne to be comfortable around the mc. Tormund was the best person to meet first. He knew how to interact with her.

Sandor was too focused on other things plaguing his mind to put his two cents into the conversation. He had slept feverishly, unable to stop thinking about the way Sansa gazed at him and the way her lips had brushed against his. He had frozen under her touch, unable to kiss her back. He hated that he had no experience whatsoever.

All his life, he had been too busy taking care of Anne to even focus on girls. It wasn't like they bothered to pay attention to him either. He had the body of a man by the time he was twelve. Girls didn't prefer that at that age, and the scars didn't help.

He hadn't been drawn to a single girl until he saw Sansa on the first day of freshman year. She had been walking down the hall in white shorts and a blue top that showed off the pale skin of her midriff. Her red hair had been flowing as if she was straight out of one of those hair commercials. She looked like an angel to his eyes. He soon found out that she was not when those icy eyes landed on him, and her lips curled in revulsion. He hadn't missed the 'freak' remark she made under her breath as she walked past him.

He hated her, but he wanted her. He stole glances at her when he knew she was too wrapped up in her silly little conversations with her pretend friends. She was a spoiled princess. It didn't stop him from wishing she would look at him with a smile versus a scowl.

He never thought that day would happen until he was paired up with her. Now, everything was different, and he didn't know what to do with the fact she wanted him back.

"You okay, kid. You're deep in thought over there," Tormund stated, startling Sandor out of his racing thoughts. Tormund gripped Sandor's shoulder, giving it a friendly shake.

"I'm okay. Thanks."

"He's too busy thinking about his girlfriend," Anne grumbled, and Sandor could practically hear the rolling of her eyes just from her tone.

Tormund lit up. "A girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Sandor muttered.

"Yes, he does. She has long red hair and big ol' blue eyes, and Sandor is madly in love with her even though she used to treat him like shit."

"Anne, knock it off." Sandor gave her a look over his shoulder, signaling to keep her mouth shut. She stuck her tongue out at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ah, the pretty girl that the boss spotted, she's your girl now?"

"No, she's not my girl. She's a friend," Sandor emphasized, shoving his hand through his hair agitatedly.

"There's nothing to be shy about, kid. Love is a beautiful thing."

A blush crept up Sandor's neck, heating his face. "I do not love her."

Tormund gave him a knowing look. "Sure, you don't."

"Okay, I should not have brought her up," Anne groaned and covered her ears, humming a tune.

Sandor couldn't have been happier to pull up to a gate. The young prospect was the one to let them inside. Tormund parked at the house beside the bar. They all got out of the car, and Tormund bounded up the porch steps opening the door. He opened it and hollered a name, beckoning for them to come inside. Anne's hand slipped back into Sandor's as they ascended the stairs. They walked inside and were greeted by the smell of cookies.

A woman approached them. She walked with a certain elegance, her midnight hair in soft curls that hung loosely around her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were an enchanting green color that stood out against her ebony skin. A kind smile formed on her face. "Hello there. I'm Elaine. You must be Sandor and Anne."

Sandor nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for your hospitality."

She waved a hand in front of her. "Oh, please, call me Elaine, ma'am is so formal. I'm happy to help. Anne will be in safe hands with me."

"It's appreciated."

"Would you like to make another batch of cookies with me?" Elaine asked Anne, and she eagerly nodded in reply. Anne tugged Sandor down for a quick kiss to his cheek and left with Elaine to the kitchen.

Sandor was extremely appreciative that Elaine was so willing to care for Anne. He knew his baby sister would enjoy every second with her. With that knowledge in mind, he followed Tormund to the clubhouse. There weren't many people hanging out today. Beric poured Bronn a drink at the bar. Other than them, the prospect and Brienne were the only ones there.

Zane came up to Sandor, shaking his hand and pat his shoulder. "Ready for day one?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Zane chuckled. "Nothing to fear, boy. We're going over basics today. You'll learn some boxing combos and how to disarm someone with a weapon. We'll discuss what's going to be expected of you in the club and you'll be done for the day. Sound easy enough?"

It sounded too easy if Sandor was being honest. He wasn't going to argue with him, though. He didn't want to be overwhelmed on his first day.

"Sounds good to me."

They headed to another building, and Sandor was floored to see it was a gym. There were a few more club members here. A boxing ring sat in the middle of the room, and it was empty. Sandor figured that's where they would be training for the time being.

Tormund and Bronn disappeared. Back to the bar most likely.

Sandor joined Zane in the ring. Zane was wearing sweats and a loose tank that showcased the strength of his body. He had full-sleeve tattoos that Sandor hadn't seen last time due to him wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

"Like them?" Zane asked, turning his arms up.

Sandor realized he was talking about the tattoos. He had been caught staring. "Yeah. I always wanted some myself."

"Gendry, our prospect, is an artist. He's done most of my tattoos. He'll hook you up with one whenever you're ready."

"Really?" Sandor remarked, his brow lifting high on his face.

"Yeah. The kid loves to draw, and he's friendly. He's easy to get along with."

"Uh, thanks. I'll be sure to talk to him."

Zane's lips curved up into a half-smile. He nodded, grabbing something out of his pockets. "Time to get to work, boy. Hold your right hand out flat."

Sandor lifted it and spread his fingers. Zane seized it considerately and began to wrap it up to protect it from injury. He did the same with the other and helped him into boxing gloves. Sandor was surprised by the weight of them. "You'll get used to that. Soon enough, they'll feel like feathers on your hands," Zane said, noticing the confusion written across Sandor's face.

"I didn't know they weighed anything," he grunted, feeling stupid.

"It's a learning process. We're going to practice the combo jab, cross, hook. Are you right-handed or left-handed?"

"Right."

"Alright, so you'll stand orthodox. Put your left leg forward." Zane showed him the correct stance and then taught him the combo.

Sandor got the hang of the movements faster than he had expected. Zane praised him and moved onto harder combos that tripped Sandor up at times, but eventually, he got the hang of the difficult movements.

After a couple of hours, Zane let him relax and catch his breath. "You're in good shape, kid. You're a quick learner too."

"Thanks," Sandor replied, taking the water bottle Zane extended to him.

"You can clean up in the locker room. I have some business to take care of. So, I'll have the guys inform you of some of the duties you'll be doing around here. Okay?"

"Got it, sir."

"Good job today, son. I'll see you around."

Sandor stood to his feet. "Thanks again for everything."

Zane stopped and peered over his shoulder. He grinned at Sandor. "Of course, kid."

He strolled out of the gym, throwing a small wave as he went.

Sandor quickly showered, changing into the extra set of clothes he brought with him. He strode into the bar to see Bronn, Beric, and Tormund waiting for him.

"You clean up nice, kid," Tormund bellowed, clapping both hands down on Sandor's shoulders. "Did you want anything to drink?"

"He's seventeen, Tormund," Beric reminded him.

"Oh, bugger that. I was drinking by the time I was a lad of fourteen. Come, have a beer with me."

Sandor let Tormund steer him over to a barstool, and Beric reluctantly set down some kind of IPA in front of Sandor. Tormund clutched his beer and tipped it towards Sandor.

"Cheers."

"Uh, cheers," Sandor returned, and Tormund tapped their bottles together, taking a large swig of his. Sandor took a modest swallow of his, and instantly his taste buds were overwhelmed by the bitter flavor.

"Strong?"

"Yes."

"You'll get used to the taste," Bronn commented, giving Sandor a skeptical look. He didn't trust him, and Sandor didn't expect him to.

"So, let's discuss business before the fun stuff," Tormund declared, taking another large swallow of his beer.

Sandor picked at the label of the bottle. He didn't know exactly where the conversation was going to lead to or what was considered fun. Still, he was ready to hear what was expected of him.

"The role of an enforcer is to make certain that all members follow the club laws and rules. You'll be in charge of protecting all of the patch holders, and you'll also be protecting the club's reputation in any type of conflict. As an enforcer, you're going to see your fair share of fighting. You'll assist all members of the club in combat of any sort that means whether or not there are weapons involved. You're a big guy. You're going to intimidate people easily. So, that's all the boss wanted us to go over with you. Do you have any questions?"

Sandor processed what Tormund had just told him. It would be an easy enough job once he became more skilled in combat. The only thing was it did put him in danger, and he had promised not only Anne but Sansa too that he wouldn't get himself killed. He didn't have any other choice, though. He would work his ass off to ensure no one could get the upper hand on him, not even someone who had a weapon.

"So, I'm going to be the muscle of the group?" His tone was light and almost comical. Beric broke out into a smile, and Tormund let out a bold laugh, patting Sandor's back.

"Exactly, I don't think many people will want to fuck with a 6'6 guy built like a brick house." 

"Geez, do you have a bloody crush on the boy?" Bronn griped.

"He is a handsome lad, but I think another ginger has gotten to him first." Tormund wiggled his brows. Sandor sighed, not ready to have this conversation again. He took a deep pull of his beer, ignoring the not all that pleasant taste.

"You got a girl, boy?" Bronn inquired. His expression was still distant, yet, his tone suggested he was genuinely curious about what he had to say.

"She's not my girl. She's just a friend."

"Huh, doesn't seem like you want her to be just a friend." Bronn shrugged his shoulder, finishing off his beer, and asked Beric for another.

"She's better off without a guy like me weighing her down."

"You can't decide that for her."

Sandor peered over at Bronn, seeing the layers of uncertainty slowly fading away. "She can be anything she wants in this world. I'd only hold her back."

Bronn scoffed. "If you live your whole life living like that, then you're never going to find what you're looking for. If you want the girl, then go for it. Time is not meant to be wasted being afraid of the future."

Sandor observed what he could only describe as misery swimming in Bronn's eyes. He must have been through something quite tragic to look so sad, and Sandor didn't think it would be polite to ask.

Bronn's sudden kindness moved him. He decided he'd take the man's words to heart and figure out what to do about Sansa. He couldn't just pretend like she hadn't kissed him and made him feel alive for the first time in forever.

"The man is right, Sandor. Life is a gift, and you must take a chance on the things you want. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm a virgin," he admitted and wanted to hide when all their attentions snapped attentively to him. That was one way to hook a crowd.

He grabbed his beer and chugged the rest of what remained. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Beric walked over, placing a beer on the counter, and popped the cap off. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about. You are only seventeen," Beric reassured, pushing the beer towards Sandor. He took it gratefully.

"Yes, just a baby," Tormund kidded, reaching over to pinch Sandor's cheek, but he dodged the touch and knocked him away. He enjoyed the playful banter these men seemed to have with one another. They were more like a family than anything. Tormund had made him feel more than welcome, and Bronn was slowly starting to warm up to the idea of him. He didn't know he needed friends in his life, but he couldn't see any life without them now.

"I'm going to be eighteen in a month," he retorted. He chugged a considerable amount of his beer becoming used to the bitterness.

"Still, just a babe," Bronn said jokingly and raised his beer to Sandor.

"So, a virgin, eh? You been kissed?" Tormund asked, stroking his beard.

Sandor flushed, rubbing his hand at the nape of his neck. "Yes, yesterday, for the first time. I ran away like a pup with its tail between its legs."

The men started laughing, but it wasn't to be rude. It was boisterous and friendly. Sandor couldn't help but laugh too.

"The poor lass," Tormund snickered, wiping away a tear from his eye.

"I didn't know how to react."

"You kiss her back, you dummy." Bronn threw up his hands, shaking his head like he couldn't believe Sandor had run away.

"She used to hate me, and then all of a sudden, she wants to be my friend. It doesn't make sense. I just couldn't wrap my head around why she was kissing me. Girls don't do that shit, not with a guy like me."

"And what is a guy like you?" Tormund hummed, his cheeks tinted red.

"An ugly bastard."

Tormund slammed his palm on the bar top, pointing his other finger at Sandor. "You shut your mouth, boy. You are one hell of a man, and any woman would be lucky to have you. What, you think your scars define your appeal?" Tormund shook his head and proceeded. "No. A real woman will see past the scars. Never forget your worth, kid."

Sandor didn't quite know what to say to that. He made to respond, the opening of the bar doors stopping him. Elaine entered with Anne.

Sandor was on his feet immediately. "Everything okay?"

Elaine fixed him with a smile. "Yes, she was just feeling tired. I think all the baking got to her."

Anne did seem quite sleepy. "I should get going," he told the guys.

"Beric will take you on home. I've been drinking," Tormund replied, getting to his feet. They shook hands, and Tormund headed over to the couch, plopping down.

Bronn tapped Sandor's shoulder. "You seem like a good kid. If you like the girl, go for it, okay?"

"Thank you."

"See you around." Bronn joined Tormund on the couch. Beric shrugged on a jacket and stepped out from behind the bar. Sandor hoisted Anne into his arms, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for watching her, Elaine."

"Anytime, Sandor." She held the door open for him and Beric as they walked over to Beric's car.

Sandor sat in the backseat with Anne. Beric didn't seem to mind.

Sandor hadn't expected the day to go so well. He closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of genuine happiness. He was glad things were finally turning around for him.

¤

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	15. Elsewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be more than 25 chapters...we'll see...
> 
> Much love <3

**_I am drunk in my desire_ **  
**_But I love the way you smile at me_ **  
**_I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near_ **  
**_I believe_ **

**_This is heaven to no one else but me_ **  
**_And I'll defend it as long as_ **  
**_I can be left here to linger in silence_ **

Sansa shouldn't have touched him.

She shouldn't have kissed him.

Yet, she did, and there was no going back.

She had never known a boy of seventeen to have so much hair, and it had intrigued her.

Harry had been as hairless as a mole-rat. He criticized her for having a neat layer upon her mound. She had been humiliated. Nevertheless, she slept with him because she had been naïve then, and didn't want him to leave her.

After she saw Sandor without a shirt, she had been mesmerized by the hair that covered his massive chest. It was strange to see the way it neatly tapered down his abs to the dark happy trail that headed to a part of him that she could easily see in those basketball shorts. There was no way he had been hard at that moment. Still, the outline was enough to tell the boy was packing some severe heat.

When he was touching her face, holding her so close in her room, she had to assuage her curiosity by finding out if the hair was soft or coarse. She had been shocked to find out just how soft it was. Her fingers had slid through it so effortlessly. It wasn't a mess of hair either, it was neat, and only a thin layer versus the amount upon his chest. He hadn't let her get that far, though. He had startled like a frightened horse when her fingers ventured too far down.

She didn't know what his deal was if she was being honest. Most teenage boys would have gotten the hint and dove in to take what they desired. The moment Sansa had kissed Harry, he had been all over her, touching everywhere, even though it wasn't all that welcome. She had given him all of her. He stomped on that to fuck his way through most of the cheerleading team.

She wanted to erase that memory and replace it with Sandor. She ached to know how he would feel inside her. He was a large guy, and she knew full well that he would fill her up to the point she wasn't sure if she would be able to handle all of him. She was desperate to find out even if it ended up being a complete mistake.

She recalled the doubt and longing in his gaze when she had moved between his legs in his room. She had never seen a man of his stature back away so fast. She tended to forget he was only a boy. He had been clutching his covers so tight his knuckles had bled into white. The hunger in his eyes had warred with the fear.

She had only meant to tease.

She had been positive Sandor had his fill of a couple of girls. Yet, now she wasn't so sure anymore. He had pulled away from her advances so suddenly and then stumbled out of her car after she kissed him. She was starting to think that Sandor may have never been with a girl. It made her feel even more terrible about the events at his house. She didn't want him to think she cared that he was a virgin. She still desired him all the same, even if that was the case.

Sansa wasn't experienced in the whole sex thing either. For the handful of times she was intimate with Harry, he had always sought out his pleasure and did it fairly quickly. It only took about five to ten minutes for him to reach his climax, leaving Sansa high and dry once he finished. She had to get herself off every-single-time when he left. She wasn't sure how she could teach Sandor anything when she didn't know much herself. Still, she would try.

She had never enjoyed the thought of giving oral sex. It had always seemed so degrading. She had been grateful when Harry never asked her to do that for him. When it came to Sandor, she had a change of heart on the whole matter. She found that she did want to get on her knees for him. She wanted to hear the noises he'd make when she took him into her mouth. She craved to know how he looked in the thralls of passion.

Most of all, she needed to taste him. She needed to feel his hands in her hair, feel the desperation as they tightened and pulled her into his every greedy thrust.

A spine-tingling thrill went through her at the perverted images she had created in her head. The only light currently on in her room was from her television. A glimpse at her phone told her that it was nearing one am in the morning. It was Sunday now. She didn't have to worry about getting up early.

She lay back feeling feverish. Her breaths had started to come in harsh little pants. She drew in a long breath, trying and failing to relieve the ache that was coiling her gut. She knew what would help her, but it felt so wrong in the dark by herself. She had always chased her pleasure with a vague image in mind. One of a man with a set of pretty blue eyes and blonde hair with smooth muscles, and now everything had changed.

Sandor's grey eyes were vivid in her mind when her fingers slowly began to slip into her pajama shorts. She had noticed his midnight hair slowly starting to grow, wanting to thread her fingers in it and feel the softness of it all. She adored the small smile that would tilt up the corners of his mouth when she managed to say something that amused him. He always seemed so much younger when he smiled or laughed. It wiped the tension that constantly furrowed his brow and relieved the scowl from his enticing mouth.

Sansa exhaled on a tremulous breath when her fingers bypassed her soft curls and smoothed over where she ached the most. She went in slow, teasing circles, unable to silence her needy whimpers. She screwed her eyes shut, remembering his low growl when he said _'like you want me to fuck you.'_

Yes, that's what she _wanted_.

She _needed_ him inside her.

It was driving her crazy.

Her fingers were trembling, pushing through her folds to find herself sopping wet. She covered her mouth, breathing hard in and out through her nose. She circled her entrance feeling the way it clenched and unclenched under her ministrations. She pushed one finger inside, her walls fluttering to accept the intrusion.

Her fingers were slender, nothing compared to Sandor's. His were thick and long. She remembered the way he had cradled her face. His fingers had spread across the entirety of it, slipping past her hairline. She moaned, shoving another finger in with the thought of how much she needed him to touch her. Just one of his fingers would fill her up more than her two.

She groaned in frustration when she couldn't reach deep, rolling onto her stomach, she pushed her hips down, shoving her fingers as far as they could go. She dug her forehead into her pillow, sucking in sharp breaths of air, rolling her hips in a way that imitated sex. She pictured the way he would fuck her just like this, behind her, grasping onto her hips as he drove into her with thrusts strong enough to rattle her teeth. It would hurt, but it would be delicious and welcome pain.

"Sandor--fuck--need," she rambled under her breath, thrusting and rolling her hips, feeling herself tethering right on the edge of something mind-blowing. Her other hand came up and eagerly rubbed at her clit. She could practically hear his low grunts filling her ears, feel his hand on her cheek pushing her face into the pillow. She bit it to muffle her cries as the pressure exploded, giving way to an overwhelming climax.

She lay there for what felt like forever. Her body sated and exhausted. She managed to pull herself off the bed, going into her bathroom that was attached to her room. She cleaned herself off, her cheeks blazing in shame at what she had just done. She turned the light off and found her way back to her bed. She plopped down, holding her body pillow close to her chest, letting out a sigh.

She had officially lost her mind. She couldn't believe she just did that.

How would she ever look him in the eye again?

She smothered her face into the pillow.

She would just have to avoid eye contact with him.

She could do it.

Or so she hoped.

∞

Monday arrived much faster than Sansa had wanted it to.

She had a relaxing Sunday, happy that her mom and Baelish went off to spend the day together elsewhere. Robb and Jon went up to the mountains to get their snowboarding fix. Bran and Rickon stayed cooped up in their bedroom all day playing video games, and Arya went off to train at her gym. She was hoping to become a famous boxer. Sansa had no doubt her kickass sister could easily have a career in the sport. She had a fire in her that could never be snuffed out.

Sansa had spent most of the day lounging around eating junk food and binge-watching Netflix. She hardly had days of the sort, so she didn't waste it. She couldn't stop herself from touching herself again to thoughts of Sandor even though she tried so hard not to. He plagued her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about him.

Now, at school, she fretted restlessly. She didn't want to see him for the sole reason they had not spoken since she took advantage of him and kissed him.

At lunch, she glanced around but saw no sight of him in the cafeteria.

"You okay?" Jeyne asked, which ended up gaining the attention of everyone at the table. The cheerleading team was the ones she always ate lunch with. She didn't particularly enjoy their company due to them openly sleeping with her boyfriend. Still, she couldn't really sit with anyone else. These people were the closest she was to having friends.

"I'm fine." Sansa smiled, knowing it didn't meet her eyes.

"You look like something is bothering you. You know you can tell us anything, right, Sansa?" Kathy sweetly mentioned. A furtive smirk was upon her face as if there was something she was hiding. Her blonde hair pulled away from her face, green eyes wandering over Sansa's face.

"As I said, I'm fine."

Kathy steepled her fingers together, placing her chin atop them. "Hm, Harry told me something quite troubling."

Sansa snapped her full attention over to Kathy. An inexplicable tension began to grow at the table.

"Enough, Kathy," Nicole muttered, setting her yogurt cup down.

"Do you want to know what he told me?" Kathy asked mockingly.

"I don't care what Harry has to say. You should know that by now, Kathy." Sansa frowned at her.

Kathy didn't seem to notice the intensity in Sansa's eyes. She kept going as if she knew she was already getting under Sansa's skin. "He told me that he was talking to you in the hallway after school, and then Sandor Clegane pushed him against the lockers. I guess that boy _is_ just a savage."

Sansa gritted her teeth. "Did Harry tell you that he was gripping my arm hard enough to bruise? Or did he just conveniently leave that part out to make Sandor appear like the bad guy?"

Kathy's eyes glimmered, her smirk deepening, and it was then that Sansa realized what her intentions were all along. Sansa swallowed through the lump that had formed in her throat. "So, I guess he wasn't lying when he said you want to fuck that ugly bastard."

"Stop it," Jeyne snapped at Kathy. "You're acting like a bitch. If you have nothing nice to say, then go eat somewhere else."

Kathy stood to her feet, her head held high, staring down at Sansa. "You seriously want that guy, Sansa?"

"Go away," Sansa whispered.

"He would ruin you. A guy like him must have a monster down there," she giggled, pointing down at her crotch. "Lord knows, Sansa, no guy will ever want you after he's done with you. You'll be nothing but a little whore with a ruined-"

Sansa was on her feet, unable to stop her progression forward. She was around the table in front of Kathy in a flash. She struck her across the face before another vulgar word could come out of her mouth. The whole table gasped as the slap rang throughout the cafeteria. All eyes were on both of them. Kathy cradled her cheek, looking at Sansa with a bewildered look.

"You don't know me, Kathy, so don't pretend like you do," Sansa hissed.

"You better watch your back, Sansa," Kathy sputtered and turned on heel, running out of the cafeteria. She wouldn't tell the teachers. The other students in the cafeteria also didn't seem to care much about what happened. They were all laughing and chatting with one another again.

Sansa slumped onto the bench, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. A warm hand came down on her shoulder. Sansa turned her head to see Jeyne smiling sadly at her. "Sansa, did you want to talk? Elsewhere?" Her gaze flitted to the rest of the girls at the table. They had all digressed into conversations of their own.

Sansa couldn't hide what she was feeling from Jeyne anymore. She gave a tiny nod, and Jeyne took her hand, leading her out of the cafeteria. They wound up outside at the bleachers to the football field. They sat down side by side, and Jeyne gave Sansa an encouraging look. Sansa heaved a sigh.

"I do like somebody. It's Sandor," she admitted, fiddling with the frayed ends of her skirt.

"I figured it had to be him. I remembered you saying you're ideal guy would be tall, dark, and handsome. I put two and two together when I was passing by your class once and saw you talking to him. You have nothing to be ashamed about, Sansa. You know that, right?" Jeyne said, taking Sansa's hand into her lap and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Sansa shook her head dejectedly. She was unable to stop the tears from escaping from behind her eyes. "I know how everyone will react if I openly admit I like him. They would be cruel to him. I know it. I don't care what they do to me, but I couldn't take it if they went after him."

"Who cares what they say? Sandor is tough. He won't let these basic assholes break him. High school is almost over, and then we're all going our separate ways. These people will mean nothing. If you truly care about him, then you shouldn't hide it. If you want him to be a permanent part of your life, don't cast him aside. Life is too short to be worrying about what others will think."

Sansa raised her head, seeing the affection in Jeyne's gaze. She had always been an exceptional friend to Sansa. Yet, they had never talked about anything along these lines. She hadn't realized how fast time had passed them by.

"I genuinely like him, Jeyne," Sansa sniffled, wiping at the tears that still fell.

"Then tell him. Don't be afraid. You're much stronger than you think are."

Sansa let out a sob and wrapped her arms around Jeyne, pulling her close. "Thank you for always being my friend. You always have had my back."

Jeyne held fast to Sansa. "I'll always be here for you, Sansa."

Sansa cried harder and allowed the emotions to spill out, knowing Jeyne was there for her.

She had to tell Sandor the truth. She couldn't hide behind her fears any longer.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxo


	16. Thrown Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy ;)
> 
> Much love <3

**_Thrown down, like a barricade_ **   
**_Maybe now he could prove to her_ **   
**_That he could be good for her_ **   
**_And they should be together_ **

Sandor's leg bounced up and down, twirling his pen between his fingers absentmindedly. He peered at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Class was about to start, and Sansa had yet to arrive. She was habitually there a little after him.

Today, she was nowhere in sight as other students filed in, taking their seats. The teacher walked in, setting his stuff down, and began writing things on the board that Sandor paid no mind to.

The bell rang, and that was when she bounded inside. Even from where he sat, he could tell she had been crying. A red rim surrounded her eyes, and they were brighter than usual.

She kept her head down as she scurried to her seat, sitting down with absolutely no grace. She managed to scoot the desk as she sat, causing it to make a screeching noise. The class turned their attention to the sound. She blushed, yanking her notebook and pencil out of her bag.

Mr. Carpenter cleared his throat, gaining back the attention of his students, and began to teach.

Sandor peered over to see her biting on her lip as if she was holding back more tears. He could see the light tremble of her body. He fisted his hands, turning his gaze away from her to stare out the window.

He couldn't handle the distressed look upon her face.

He didn't know if it was him that put it there, but if he had, it made him feel like absolute shit.

The hour passed quicker than anticipated. The bell shocked him out of his rampant thoughts.

Sansa was on her feet out the door before Sandor could even process her abrupt departure. He shot to his feet, grabbing his notebook, and made to catch up with her. She was fast though, already halfway down the hall by the time he got out of the class. He didn't want to cause a scene by shouting her name, so he used his long legs to his advantage, and caught up with her.

She glanced over, her eyes widening when she realized it was him.

"Sansa, can we talk?" he asked, managing to keep up with her frantic pace.

"There's nothing to talk about, Sandor." Her voice strained. He could see the anguish written all over her face.

She made a sharp turn towards the girl's locker room, a place he could not follow. "Please, Sansa, I need to talk to you." He gently encircled her bicep, turning her to face him.

"I can't do this right now, Sandor," she whispered, her bottom lip was quivering. He could see the unshed tears in her eyes. He despised, seeing her so afflicted.

He reached up, brushing away a tear that had escaped from her eyes. She let out a small, pained sound. "Sansa, I'm sorry."

She wrenched away from him, shaking her head. When she smiled, it felt like a punch to the face. It was so sad and gut-wrenching. "I'm the one who is sorry. I have to go," she said softly, and then she was rushing away from him.

He stood watching her go until she was out of his sight.

He never wanted to see that expression on her face ever again.

It was torturous.

∞

Sandor's fist collided with the bag over and over again, sweat dripping down his face as he drove his body to its limit. The burn of violent energy was raging all around him. Dark thoughts caressed him, reminding him he would never be good enough; he was worthless; no one would love him. He was spiraling deeper and deeper under their control, losing sight of himself.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his wrist almost viciously. He was so lost in his head that his other fist instinctively threw a punch, but whoever had grabbed him dodged the hit.

"Breathe, son, _breathe_ ," the voice calmed and comforted.

His breaths were heavy and uneven, his body shaking. His tunnel vision gradually started to fade away.

Zane's face came into focus, and he felt the fight leave his body. His arm fell to his side with a thud. Zane let go of Sandor's entrapped wrist, and his arm joined the other at his side.

"You scared the shit out of me, kid. I've never seen a man so far gone that he hadn't even realized his knuckles were bleeding."

Sandor glanced down at his hands to see they were cut up, and blood was seeping out of the wounds.

"Fuck," he breathed.

Zane grasped Sandor's elbow, gently guiding him to sit on the bench near the boxing ring. He walked off, and when he returned, he had a first aid kit. He kneeled in front of Sandor, cleaning the cuts out with alcohol. Sandor bit the inside of his cheek at the sharp sting. Zane set the bottle down, wiping considerately at the wounds, removing the blood from his skin.

Sandor felt strange, allowing a grown man to do this for him. He had always cleaned his cuts and scrapes as a kid. His dad couldn't bother to help him. He was told to man up if he hurt himself.

He had stitched up a cut when his dad refused to take him to the doctor claiming it would be too expensive. Now, it was almost pleasant to let someone else tend to him.

Zane wrapped his hands meticulously with the bandages. After he analyzed his work, he patted Sandor's shoulder and got back to his feet.

"Are you going to tell me what's going inside that head of yours?" Zane asked.

Sandor could tell Zane wouldn't be offended if he said no. Sandor trusted him, though. This man could have ended him. Yet, he hadn't, and for that, Sandor was loyal to him.

"It's a girl."

Zane sighed and sat beside him. "It always is."

"She kissed me the other day, and it scared me. So, I ran away. Today I wanted to make amends, to gather the courage and tell her the truth finally, but she could hardly bear to look at me. She ran away just like I did."

"Being a teenager is difficult. You're experiencing so many different emotions, and it can be quite the whirlwind to wrap your head around. Plus, your hormones are raging. It doesn't help the other tremulous emotions you're feeling. When it comes to teenage girls, if they face what they think to be rejection, it can be hard to understand. She probably is terrified that you don't want her. So, she avoids you because she is too afraid to hear you say that you don't feel the same way about her. I wouldn't let it get to your head. When the time is right, then you'll be able to express whatever you're feeling for her."

Sandor stared at his bandaged hands, the adrenaline had vanished, and he could feel the faint sting of the cuts already trying to heal and mend.

Zane had spoken words of wisdom. He was clearly a man that understood the strife of being a teenager.

"What if the time is never right?"

Zane clasped his shoulder. His grey eyes were boring into Sandor. "Trust me, kid. If she likes you as much as you seem to like her, then, there will come a time where these feelings will be known to one another."

Sandor could only nod. He felt defeated. His feelings for Sansa had him all over the place.

"Thanks, Zane. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, kid. Let's practice disarming someone with a weapon. Okay?"

"Okay."

Zane was able to get Sandor's mind off of his current circumstances. He focused on what Zane told him, learning quickly how to disarm someone who had a knife and a gun.

However, that night when Sandor lay on his bed and fell asleep. He could only dream about Sansa and all the things he wanted to experience with her if she'd let him.

∞

Tuesday went by in a blur for Sandor.

Sansa was still avoiding him.

He didn't want to pressure her into talking to him, so he gave her the space she needed.

He trained with Tormund, his wounds not as bad as he thought. He learned more about the club from Bronn and Beric.

He even talked to Gendry, who was more than happy to tattoo him whenever he had an idea of what he wanted.

He conversed with Brienne and a couple of the members, getting to know them a bit more.

Anne was madly in love with Elaine, basically talking his ear off with all the baking skills she had learned as of late.

He felt content with mostly everything going on in his life. All except for how things were going with Sansa.

It was Wednesday, and he wasn't sure if she was still up to being near him. She rushed off after class and sent him a text right when he got home, telling him she'd be picking him up to work on their project a little after seven.

He ate and showered, spending the rest of the day going over combos in his head.

It was 7:15 pm when she texted him, telling him she was outside.

He gathered his courage, silently walking through the kitchen to get to the front door. He could hear his dad snoring from the living room and had checked Anne's door, ensuring it was locked.

He walked outside, closing the door behind him, and made the trek to her car.

He got inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Hey," he said, trying to act natural and not like his heart was prepared to lurch out of his chest.

"Hey," she murmured back.

She started driving, neither one saying a word to one another the entire drive to her house. He had gone through a thousand things he wanted to tell her, but they all got trapped in his throat.

He followed her up to her door, standing off to the side, so he didn't make her feel intimidated by him standing directly behind her.

She entered her house, walking towards the kitchen.

It was eerily quiet.

Sandor felt unsettled, not hearing the two older boys screaming over their video games and the two younger blaring their television. There was no dinner smell as he entered the kitchen.

No one was in sight except Sansa in her faded jeans and a red crop top that showed off the defined lines of her abdomen. It was an intoxicating sight, and he could almost think she wore such clothes just for his benefit.

"Where is everybody?" Sandor asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

His hands buried in his pockets.

He was so nervous that it felt like a swarm of bees were swirling around in his stomach.

"My mom wanted to go see some movie and demanded Petyr go with her. Arya, Bran, and Rickon all joined them to see a movie of their own. Jon and Robb are still in the mountains snowboarding."

Sandor felt his face go beet red at the realization they were all alone. "When did they go to see the movie?"

Sansa merely shrugged, not making eye contact with him as she leaned against the counter. "My mom said it started at seven and was about two hours long."

Sandor was starting to sweat, and the room had become unbearably hot all of a sudden. His heart was racing.

"Oh, okay." He managed to keep the tremble out of his voice.

She gave him a faint smile. "I made more cupcakes. Did you want one?"

"Sure," he blurted, heat spanning from his neck to the tips of fingers. They tingled, and he clenched them inside his pockets as he moved further into the kitchen.

Sansa grabbed a cupcake, holding it out to him. It had chocolate frosting this time around, he took it, thanking her.

He forgot his manners for a moment, eagerly stripping the liner away from the cupcake to see more chocolate.

He didn't waste time, taking a generous bite. His eyes fell shut at the burst of flavor. A low groan escaped him, and just like last time, he finished the cupcake in a couple of bites.

He proceeded to lick the crumbs off his fingers until there was nothing left.

When he finally came back to himself, he flushed bright red, looking up to see Sansa staring at him.

Her expression was unreadable.

He couldn't tell if she was fascinated or repulsed by his display of devouring a cupcake.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, rubbing the nape of his neck with his clean hand.

"You have a bit of chocolate, right here," she whispered, moving into his space.

His breath hitched as she reached up using her thumb to wipe at the corner of his mouth.

When she pulled her hand away, he saw the chocolate upon the pad of her thumb.

She stared at it for a moment, and then brought it to her lips, sliding it into her mouth, sucking the chocolate off. Her blue eyes held his as she did so. It was a baffling sight.

"Sansa," he stuttered. He snapped his mouth shut and turned his face away. He sounded so pathetic. It was ridiculous that he didn't have the guts to just go after what they clearly both wanted.

"Sandor, look at me," she insisted.

He felt her palm upon his chest, and he was sure she could feel the thundering of his heart. Her hand slowly began to slide upward, meeting the skin of his neck. Her fingertips pressed into the vein, where his pulse was pounding.

He finally met her eyes, seeing the excitement in them.

Her hand came up to cup his jaw, he remained frozen, swallowing hard as her other hand came up tracing over his burns.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her voice rougher than before.

"Yes," he rasped.

No one had dared to touch his scars before. He didn't have much sensation there anyways. Still, the knowledge that she was brushing them with no fear or disgust in her eyes had him floating on air.

"Sandor, I like you," she confessed so softly he barely heard her.

"I like you too," he murmured, his hands still in fists at his sides. It was agonizing being this close to her but being so afraid to touch her.

"I do want to be your friend, Sandor, but I want to be more than that too."

Her eyes fixed on his mouth. He was trembling by this point.

"Yeah?" He sounded stupid to his ears, but there wasn't much rational thought going on up above. Not when she was looking up at him as if she were about to devour him body and soul.

"If you only knew how much I wanted you, Sandor, it would drive you as crazy as it has driven me," she said breathily.

He couldn't suppress the shiver that ran up his spine. He dug his nails into his palms trying to stop himself from getting so worked up.

It wasn't working.

"I don't know what I'm doing, little bird," he said, unable to keep the vulnerability out of his tone.

"It's okay," she soothed. "Can I kiss you?"

"Gods, yes," he whimpered, bending at the waist to press his forehead to hers.

His hands shook as they slid into her hair, gently tangling into the thick strands. She brought her hands to his chest and fisted the material, small puffs of air escaping her parted lips.

She pushed up on the tips of her toes, grazing her lips against his.

She pulled away, gauging his reaction, and whatever she saw made her whimper.

The sound was like heaven to his ears.

His fingers tightened in her hair, and he urged her closer, his lips hovering over hers. She leaned forward, her lips parting as she sucked his bottom lip gently between her teeth. A low groan escaped his chest, and his pulse was beating like mad.

He inhaled deeply through his nose when her tongue ran along his bottom lip, easing the pain of her bite.

"Fuck, Sansa, I-I, _please_ ," he babbled, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"My room," she said against his lips. He pulled back, staring into her heated gaze.

"Sansa-" He made to speak, but she stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Don’t make me beg, Sandor."

He breathed out vigorously as if she had just punched him in the gut.

He nodded, and her hand slipped into his leading him to the stairs.

He didn't know what was about to happen in her room, but he knew it would change him.

There was no going back now that he had tasted perfection.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	17. Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say enough how thankful I am for the support on this story <3
> 
> Much love!

_**Let my eyes be the rhythm  
Let my mind be your freedom  
You can take it all, you can take it all  
Let my heart be your shelter  
Let these bones be the giver  
Let this soul be your whisper  
You can take it all, you can take it all** _

His hand was warm in hers.

She almost couldn't believe he was allowing her to lead him up the stairs to her room.

She had been worried for a moment he was going to pass out on her tile floor. She was grateful that did not turn out to be the case.

Sansa hadn't planned on making a move on him when she woke up this morning. She made cupcakes the night before, hoping that it would ease some of the strain between them.

When she offered him the cupcake, she hadn't intended on him eating it so ravenously. The sounds he made with his eyes closed had her cut coiling with heat.

The cupcake was gone within a couple of bites. He had looked so embarrassed when he realized she had been staring at him the entire time. 

She had felt her heart become overwhelmed by how handsome he was, towering over her, his black Henley enhancing the curvature of his muscles. His midnight hair was still short on the sides and long on top in soft curls like he couldn't be bothered with putting a comb through it. It made him appear more boyish. His burns did nothing to detract from his heavy brow, sharp cheekbones, and strong jaw. It had brought her attention to the frosting that sat at the corner of his mouth.

It was as if instinct took over, and before she knew it, her thumb was in her mouth, sucking off the chocolate. He had gone ramrod straight before her, only capable of stuttering her name. She couldn't help but admire the bloom of red that spread from his neck to his face.

He seemed so lost as he stared down at her allowing her to touch him, feeling the hammering of his heart beneath her fingertips.

There was desperation in the way his fingers slid into her hair, his forehead crushed against hers as he exhaled on shaky breaths. His lips were warm and a little chapped, it had been perfect.

When they arrived at her room, she gently tugged him inside when he began to hesitate. She let go of his hand to shut the door, dimming the lights. She turned to see his gaze pinpointed on her bed.

He stood as stiff as a board. His hands shoved inside his pockets. She could tell he was clenching them tight due to the way the veins on his neck stood on end.

She stroked down his arm as she moved around to stand in front of him. Her hand drifted over his and came to settle on his stomach. His grey eyes snapped down to her, a mixture of need and dread.

Her other hand reached up, brushing her fingertips over his lips, feeling the transition from soft to rough and his shuddering breaths.

"Do you want to hear the things I want to do to you, Sandor?" she asked lowly, her thumb moving to trace the skin along his jaw.

He drew in a sharp breath, eyes falling shut as if he couldn't handle the thought of her telling him what kept her up at night.

From this angle, she could analyze all his features. She noted how long his lashes were brushing his high cheekbones. The scar that sat above his right brow and the one that curved around his temple. His hair was slowly starting to grow back.

He was beautiful.

Her hands pushed up under his shirt, meeting warm and muscled skin. His stomach rose and fell rapidly under her fingertips as they wandered up to his chest. A small gasp escaped her lips, feeling the soft hair. She gently curled her fingers and gave it a slight tug. He let out a sound at the back of his throat. It was then she could feel how bad he was trembling.

His eyes opened, searching hers for something when he appeared to find it; he leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. His hands still shoved deep in his pockets.

"Tell me," he muttered, his voice laced with want.

Her hands slid slowly down from his chest back to his stomach until they met the waistband of his jeans. A small tremor rolled through her, feeling her breathing quicken when her fingertips stroked the trail of hair that led into his pants.

"I want to taste you."

There was so much more she wanted to do to him.

However, her brain was focused on the one thing she wanted to do above all else. It was the thing that she dreamt about, what she had wanted to do the moment she slipped between his legs and taunted him. It had been at the forefront of her mind for much too long.

"W-What?" he choked out, standing to his full height once more.

"I want to get on my knees for you," she whispered.

"No, you don't belong on your knees, little bird. Not for me," he stammered.

"You're trembling," she hummed, toying with his belt buckle. She felt his stomach clench against her knuckles. "Let me help you relax."

She could see the array of emotions swirling around on his face. His fight or flight instincts kicking in as he withdrew from her, so suddenly, she hardly had time to process it. He stumbled backward, his back slamming up against the door as his hand enclosed around the handle. She closed the distance he had created, her breasts pushing against his chest feeling the way it heaved up and down. She laid her hand upon his, which was currently white-knuckling the door handle.

"Sandor, you have nothing to be scared of," she said, hoping her soothing tone would help him to calm down. She pushed up on her toes, the tip of her nose brushing the side of his neck. She could smell the sweat upon his skin, and a masculine scent that was all him.

"Sansa, I feel like I'm going to pass out," he blurted, his heart pounding against her chest.

She planted back on her feet, taking his hand gently. "Come sit down, okay?"

The breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he nodded, allowing her to steer him to the bed. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed down. He sat, his leg starting to bounce up and down.

She stood between his legs, the bouncing ceasing as soon as she moved her fingers through his hair. It was softer than the hair on his chest. She leaned down, smelling his shampoo, a scent of lavender. She pulled back, cupping his jaw, raising his face to meet her eyes.

She smiled sweetly down at him. "You're so handsome, Sandor."

He swallowed hard at the compliment, darting his eyes off to the side. She laughed softly, not wanting to waste any more time. They only had a couple of hours before everyone would arrive home. She leaned in, caressing his lips. She let her lips linger against his for a moment with minimum pressure. Her hands smoothed down the sides of his neck to land on his shoulders, giving them a soothing squeeze.

She touched her lips to his once more and felt his part beneath her ministrations. He tentatively pressed his lips more firmly against hers. They began to exchange soft kisses that managed to make her pulse quicken at the contact. She clutched his shoulders tighter, bringing one knee up onto the bed beside his hip and then the other. She lowered onto his lap, straddling him, aching to be closer to him.

"Sansa," he exhaled, his hands instinctively grabbing her waist to steady her.

"I want to make you feel good, Sandor," she murmured against his lips. His breathing grew heavier, fingers digging harder into where he held her.

When she fit their lips back together, he groaned low and deep, a primal sound. His lips parted on a gasp when her tongue slid along his bottom lip. She took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, to delve deeper, tasting, and exploring his mouth like she was starving. He moaned indelicately into her mouth, kissing her back just as eagerly as she was kissing him.

It was a mess of lips and tongue, a little too sloppy, but it was everything she had ever wanted. She could feel how much he desired her, the way his body shook, the way he held tighter to her leaning into her as if he couldn't handle being even an inch apart.

She began to rotate her hips, grinding against his burgeoning erection. His lips tore away from hers, both panting as she rocked against him. His hands slid down to her hips, taking them in a firm hold.

"Oh, _fuck_ , you feel good," he groaned, his forehead falling onto her shoulder. She grasped the crown of his head, closing her eyes as he clutched her hips, working her back and forth over his cock.

She was so hot and bothered that it was almost painful. She was slick between her thighs, her panties already drenched. She wanted to get rid of the layers between them and sink onto his cock. She wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that attention, though.

She had another thing in mind. As much as she loathed to stop riding him to kingdom come, she halted her frantic rocking, making to move off of him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, his arm encircling her waist, tugging her back to him.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," he begged. His lips dragged along her jawline, moving to nuzzle the skin right behind her ear.

"I need to taste you, Sandor." She had to, or else she would die of curiosity. She pushed up onto her knees, holding his shoulders as she slid one foot back to the floor. He reluctantly let go of her, allowing her to sink onto the ground before him. He jolted when her hands landed on his thighs. Her face was so close to where she was desperate to touch, to lick.

"Sansa, you don't have to do this," he stammered. She caught the movement of him, fisting her bedsheets. She raised her eyes to see the high color in his neck and cheeks. His lips were parted in awe as he gazed down at her, almost like he couldn't figure out if she was real or not.

"I _want_ to," she whispered, shuffling closer on her knees and shifted her hands up higher. 

It was silent in the room now, all except for Sandor struggling to control his breathing. Sansa was addicted to his shyness, the way he blushed, the noises he made, all of it was almost too much to handle. An overwhelming feeling overcame her, one that made her heart throb and her core clench.

Unable to hold back any longer, she lunged for his belt with trembling fingers. Her fingers were clumsy with the buckle, managing to get it open after a few tries. She unbuttoned his pants and zipped them down much more efficiently. She hadn't been expecting for his cock to spring out, thick and a shade lighter than his tanned skin. She had thought he would be wearing boxers or briefs or whatever a guy like him wore. Now, she was presented with the full length of him, ridged with veins, begging to be touched.

"Pretty," she murmured, tentatively taking him in her hand, her fingers unable to meet. It sent a surge down her spine, and she gave an experimental stroke. It felt like velvet against her palm, smooth, and yet, so hard. 

"Fuck," he panted.

"I never thought a dick could be so pretty," she confessed out loud.

"Gods, little bird, I'm fucking trash, you shouldn't be doing this," he sputtered.

She squeezed him a little harder than she should, his hand clasped atop hers—a confused look in his eyes.

"Don't call yourself that. You are not trash," her breath ghosted over the tip of his cock, his eyes widened.

"You are not a loser," a tentative lick at the droplet of liquid that had formed there, a groan.

"You are kind, so gentle," she swirled her tongue around the head, a soft whimper.

"You are everything I ever wanted and more."

She opened her mouth wide and lowered down on him, taking him a little too deep, and gagged.

Sandor let out a garbled cry. His hands trembled as they slid into her hair, gripping her head, finding purchase as if to keep himself grounded.

Tears had beaded at the corner of her eyes from him, hitting the back of her throat. She had never been one to quit, though. She wrapped her hand around the length that would not fit into her mouth and began to suck in earnest, trying to keep the same rhythm with her hand.

Sandor let out a curse, his hands tightening in her hair, hips arching towards her. She relaxed her throat, trying to take more of him. When she started to twist her hand in tandem with her sucking, he let out a strangled noise pushing deeper into her mouth. She sputtered around him, nose practically touching the dark curls around the base of his cock.

"Fuck, sorry, I'm sorry," he croaked, a calloused hand coming down to cup her jaw. The other still in her hair gently tugged her head back, his cock slipping from her mouth. She sucked in gulps of air greedily, her lips parted and no doubt swollen.

He peered down at her, beads of sweat had gathered at his temple. One drop slithered tantalizing down his cheek to his chin. His brow had furrowed as if he were in pain, his thumb stroking over the smooth skin of her cheek.

She nibbled at her bottom lip, enjoying the sight of his powerful chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths.

"I want you to come in my mouth, okay?" His eyes fell closed on a nod and a soft groan.

She took him back in her mouth, falling back into the same rhythm she had before. She hollowed out her cheeks, and it earned her a breathy growl, his fingers tightening in her hair.

She wanted him to fuck her mouth. She didn't know how to convey what she wanted, though. She squeezed him tighter at the base, shoving as much of him as she could into her mouth.

"Ah, your teeth, little bird," he grunted.

She flushed with heat, embarrassed that she had managed to hurt him. Still, she needed him to understand her desires. She grasped the hand tangled in her hair and pressed against it, causing her to take him a little deeper with more tongue and lips involved than teeth. He seemed to get the hint with the way both his hands fisted in her hair now. He began to rock his hips upwards, pushing his cock over and over into her mouth. She moaned around him and he let out a shaky breath. 

Suddenly, she felt the tip of his boot pressing into her clit. She jolted, but his hands remained steady upon her head, his movements becoming erratic as she gagged around his cock, refusing to stop him.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come," he whimpered.

For a virgin, he had lasted a lot longer than she had anticipated. The toe of his boot still pressed tight against her cunt. Before she could stop herself, she settled her weight upon it, rocking in time with his thrusts. It sent a delicious thrill through her, her panties ruined.

"Oh, _god_ , Sansa," he sobbed. He arched over her, his chest pressing against her forehead as he came. His cock twitched against her tongue as he trembled, riding out his orgasm. Slowly, he slid out of her mouth.

Still, she rubbed herself eagerly against his boot, his hands moving down to cradle her face. He seemed to realize what she was doing finally, and she heard his breath catch in his throat. She was so close, so very close. She gasped as a blinding pleasure overtook her, a soft moan falling out of her mouth. She barely had a moment to come down from the high of climax before she was yanked to her feet, Sandor towering over her.

His eyes were wild. "Did you just use my boot to get off?"

"Yes," she said with no hesitation.

He groaned. "That's so fucking hot. _You_ are so fucking hot."

"Did you like what I did?" she asked shyly as if she hadn't just had his dick crammed down her throat only a minute ago.

"Gods, yes, Sansa, thank you," he grumbled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She smiled at that. Enjoying how sated he sounded.

Her eyes glanced at the clock above her bed. It was nearing eight-thirty, and the last thing she needed was for her family to show up earlier than expected.

She didn't want him to go. Her heart clenched at the thought of having to take him home. If she had the time, she'd figure out all the noises she could draw out of him. Unfortunately, she couldn't.

On a sad sigh, she stood on her tip-toes, loving the way both his arms moved to encircle her waist, trapping her to his burly body.

"I should get home," he said against her lips. She was glad he said it because she didn't think she had the strength to tell him he had to leave.

"Yeah, it's getting late."

His lips found hers. This time though, it was a tender kiss that promised good things to come.

Maybe not tonight but soon.

Very, very soon.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	18. Ace of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly grateful for all the kind comments I've been receiving!
> 
> You all keep me sane!
> 
> Thank you and much love <3

**_Ever since you've been my ace of hearts_ **   
**_Hit me like a freight train in the dark_ **   
**_Come on baby take me far away_ **   
**_I wanna get so lost in the great escape_ **

Sandor could hardly sleep.

He tossed and turned. Sansa's lips wrapped around his cock, tormenting his every thought.

He had never thought any girl would willingly do that for him.

He had feared that he would wind up empty and alone, having to find his pleasure with a whore.

It had made him sick to his stomach to think the only way he would be rid of his virginity would be to pay someone.

Sansa, on her knees before him, had erased all his doubts on the matter. She had been eager to please, figuring out quickly what would drive him to the edge of insanity. 

He didn't even understand how he lasted longer than five minutes with the way her tongue stroked his cock maddeningly.

She had taken him so deep into her mouth, and he was gone. He didn't care if he embarrassed himself, he needed to come, needed her never to stop touching him.

Her hair had been soft as he clutched tight to the thick strands.

She had let him fuck her mouth, gagging around his cock, and even then, she didn't pull away. It had been so hot to see her big blue eyes gazing up at him, her red hair tangled around his fingers.

The intoxicating sight of seeing his cock slip past her pink lips over and over again brought him to the most intense climax he had ever experienced.

He had been worried he hurt her with how deep he shoved into her mouth and tugged at her hair. That was until he saw her riding his boot with her cheeks flushed red, and her pretty lips parted. The whine that emanated from her had been enough for his cock to demand another round.

She was perfect.

He didn't know how he had gotten so lucky. He wouldn't question it, though.

He would become a man that Sansa could be proud of. He would learn how to kiss her good and proper or dirty and needy.

He would give her everything she desired.

He finally fell into a deep sleep around two am to the thought of her lips against his.

∞

Sandor woke up around six, figuring he wasn't going to get much more sleep. He showered and got ready for school, deciding to make a cup of coffee.

He wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a mug, and turned on the coffeemaker, waiting for it to heat up.

He had decided on a black Henley and his finest pair of denim jeans, wanting to look suitable for Sansa.

He glanced fondly at his combat boots, the same ones where she had derived her pleasure from.

He had actually run a comb through his hair, slicking it back, away from his face.

The coffeemaker dinged, he put the pod in and watched the steaming coffee pour into the mug.

His dad was a coffee fiend. The most expensive things in the house were his television and his coffeemaker. Sandor hardly used it so he wouldn't piss his dad off. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep, needing the coffee. He didn't care if his dad yelled at him or worse came at him with fists.

Sandor brought the mug to his lips, taking a hearty sip. He always took his coffee black. His sister liked to pour half the creamer bottle in hers, and his dad took his with two sugars.

He could hear his dad rustling around, most likely getting ready for work at the factory. He had been doing that all his life. It had kept him in shape, tall and burly. If he weren't so obsessed with beer, he wouldn't have the gut. His dad was an alcoholic, though. He would rather die than give up on drinking.

Sandor took his dad's mug out of the cabinet, placing it under the coffeemaker, and put a new pod in.

His dad walked out a moment later, a little shocked to see Sandor standing in the kitchen, sipping on coffee.

"You're up early," he grumbled, moving past Sandor to grab the mug that had now filled with coffee.

"Couldn't sleep."

His dad grabbed two sugar packets, pouring them into his coffee. He stirred it with a spoon and took a seat at the table.

"Sit." His dad waved to the chair across from him.

Sandor stared at him for a moment before cautiously taking a seat. He couldn't remember the last time his dad, and he had sat together in such close proximity. He shifted nervously, the morning sunlight streaming through the window, bathing his dad in a soft glow.

Tired, blue eyes lifted to Sandor.

Sandor swallowed harshly as his dad wandered his gaze over his burns.

He was used to his dad's features twisting into one of disgust. He didn't know what to make of the sadness that crossed his face instead.

"You're going to be eighteen in a couple of weeks," his dad said more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah." He took another swig of his coffee, trying to process what the hell was going on.

"You're going to be a man," he softly laughed, staring down at his fingers, lost somewhere in his head, "You already look it. You've always been so massive. When you were just a toddler, you were already reaching past my knees. I didn't know what the hell to do with you. You always wanted to be carried, but fuck, you were heavy. I think I gained most of my muscle by carrying you around. You were always smiling. Never seen a babe smile so much, loved taking care of your sister. You were always protecting her; she liked to chase you around. You two would laugh and laugh.

"When you got burned, she refused to be anywhere but at your side. She would cry till her throat was raw, and her eyes swollen. She was only three years old. I could hardly understand how she understood you were in pain. You didn't smile much after that day. Only for her, damn near broke your mother's heart. She always loved you the most. You were her baby boy. The child she had with a man she truly loved."

Sandor was breathing hard by this point. His dad had never spoken so endearingly about him in all his life. He hardly remembered his childhood after being burned. He could only remember someone large picking him up and pushing his face to the burning hot stove. After that, all his memories were of a dad that chose booze over playing with his children.

"What are you talking about, you're my dad," Sandor whispered, his hands were trembling, holding fast to his mug.

"Your step-brother did that to your face. I had Gregor with another woman before I met your mom. Your mom tried to love him and me. She was miserable, though, so, she disappeared for a while. When she came back, she had you with her. I got over it. I wasn't any better than her when it came to sleeping around. I knew it wasn't the same, though. She loved your father. Still, we had Anne, and things were going as good as they were ever going to get. When you were seven, Gregor caught you playing with one of his toys. He lost his mind, took your face to the stove. Your mom had him locked him, and he wound up, dying in prison. Your mom was never the same after what happened to you. Then she got sick and left me with two children that I had no clue what to do with.

"You were becoming a teenager, big enough to crush my skull if you wanted to, plus you weren't my kid. I loved your mom, and just like she tried to love Gregor, I tried to love you. I've hurt you, and I know he's coming for me. I see him, riding around on his bike, passing by, scoping me out. Whatever happens to me, I know I'll deserve it."

He checked his watch, finishing his coffee, behaving like he hadn't just turned Sandor's world upside down. He stood, and without another word, he left, leaving chaos in his wake.

Sandor was on his feet, stumbling to the bathroom, unable to stop from vomiting the meager contents of his stomach. Tears were racing down his face unbeknownst to him as he sagged to the bathroom floor, feeling like a dog who had been kicked one too many times.

His fingers shook as they traced his burns, flashes of somebody holding the scruff of his neck as he screamed for help entered into his mind. He hardly remembered what came before that time. He could see himself playing and dancing with Anne, see his mom's gentle smile, and feel the warmth of the man who he thought was his father, holding him, dabbing at his cuts. Another voice came to mind, one deep and soothing, singing him lullabies to help him sleep.

Sandor shoved his fingers into his hair and tugged, letting out a sob. His world was crashing, and the only one that could save him was her. He staggered to his feet, moving blindly to his room until his phone was in his hands.

He found her number and dialed it, pressing it to his ear as he tried to calm his frantic breathing.

She answered after a couple of rings. "Hello?"

Her voice was so sweet, like a balm, his heart started to settle, and the fog that had surrounded him started to clear.

"Sansa, can we meet up before school?" He sounded like a child, so small and frail.

"Are you okay?" He heard a door shut, the sound of chattering in the background disappeared. He figured she must have been having breakfast with her family. It was something foreign to him. He couldn't remember if his family ever sat down to eat breakfast or dinner.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to see you."

"Miss me already?" she teased. It made his gut tighten.

"Something like that," he said, trying to keep the affliction out of his tone.

His whole life had been nothing more than a lie. He never recalled having a brother. His sister didn't share the same father as him. The man he called dad was not who he thought he was, and he knew he had a hit on him. He sounded like a man that was ready to die, and it was almost too much for Sandor to handle.

The MC told Sandor they would get rid of his father. Even after all the abuse, the soft spot in Sandor's heart still held some attachment to the only one he had known as dad. He didn't even know who his birth father was, and that ate at him even more.

He needed to see Sansa, to feel her touch upon his skin and know that something was right in his world.

"We can meet at the bleachers to the football field at eight if that works for you?"

Sandor checked the time. It was nearing seven-thirty. "Yeah, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," she murmured.

He hung up the phone, changing his shirt to a navy blue t-shirt due to sweating straight through his Henley. He brushed his teeth to get rid of the taste of vomit and smoothed his hair back into place.

He knocked softly at Anne's door. She opened it, looking slightly paler than usual.

"You okay?" he asked, pressing his palm to her forehead. She was warm.

"I think it's just a cold," she croaked.

"Shit, I'll call your school and tell them you're staying home for the day. I'll cancel going to work on my project tonight. I have to go talk to Sansa, but I'll come right back, okay?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll be okay. I'll just rest, drink water, and make chicken noodle soup when I'm up to eating. Go to school. I'll see you after."

"Anne," he said.

She put her hand up. "I'm old enough to take care of myself when I'm sick. Go. I'll be fine, I promise. I'll text you if I need anything."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, cupping the back of her head. "You call me if you need anything, absolutely anything, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled.

"I'll see you later." He messed up her hair, making to walk away.

"I love you." She called after him.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he looked back over his shoulder at her. "I love you too."

He locked the door behind him and began to make the trek to school.

∞

Sandor made it to the bleachers before Sansa. He sat there, alone with his thoughts going rampant. He wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to process everything his dad had thrown at him. He couldn't just stop calling him dad. He had known the man since he was a baby.

"Hey, stranger."

Sandor snapped his gaze up to see Sansa striding over wearing a red skirt that went to mid-thigh and a white crop top that showed off her freckled shoulders. She wore red high-heeled boots that made her legs appear longer than they already were.

She wasn't short.

She could easily be a model if she wanted. Still, Sandor towered over her. He liked that he did.

He was on his feet before he could stop himself. She stood in front of him, a radiant smile upon her gorgeous face.

The morning sun brought out her freckles, illuminating her fiery hair. He cradled her face in his hands, a look of shock appearing on her face. He pressed his mouth to hers, relishing the soft gasp she emitted, she was so fucking sweet. He parted her lips roughly with his tongue, savoring every whimper he swallowed down. He had never been great with words, didn't know how to convey what he was feeling ninety-nine percent of the time. He tended to get too lost in his head, too busy staring out windows to see what was right in front of him. He should have seen the truth all along. Yet, he had turned a blind eye to it, too scared to believe that his life was not what he thought. Everything had been looking up for him, that should have been the first clue that life was about to pull the rug out from underneath him.

Sandor's hand curled in the back of her hair, pulling her closer, so her chest was pressed against his. He deepened the kiss, drowning in her essence. His other arm wrapped around her waist, eliminating any space still left between them. Her lips, her breathy sighs, her nipples hard beneath her shirt brushing against his chest, signaling her desire for him-all of it was helping to restore his strength, bringing him much needed comfort.

When they came up for air, she seemed as if she were in a daze—a dreamy smile on her face.

"I guess you did miss me," she said breathily.

"I needed to see you," he replied, gently tilting her head back to press kisses down her pale neck. She keened into his touch, her hand coming up to grasp his shoulder, grounding herself.

"I'm not complaining," she whimpered, his teeth nipping at the skin where her neck and shoulder meet.

"Good," he rumbled, his cock already rock hard against her stomach. If she noticed it, she didn't say anything, letting him suck soft kisses into her collarbone.

The warning bell rang loud, signaling that class was about to start in five minutes. He stole her lips in one more heated kiss before he set her back on her feet. Her entire face was as red as her skirt that she was currently smoothing down.

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "So pretty, little bird."

She rolled her eyes. "When did you suddenly stop being shy," she hummed, swatting playfully at his hand.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, bending at the waist to whisper by her ear. "When you got on your knees and sucked my cock."

She gasped and acted like she was offended. A small smile crept on both their faces, a secret the two of them shared.

"I should get to class. I'll see you in sixth period?"

He nodded. "Yeah, see you then."

She flashed him a smile before racing off like the good girl she was to get to class on time.

He took his time getting to class, feeling somewhat relaxed that was until he sat down, and everything his dad told him this morning came rushing back.

Sandor sighed and stared out the window, wishing his dad had just kept his fucking mouth shut.

Some things were better left unsaid.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	19. The Tension and The Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in school, however, I still am devoted 100% to this story! I just might not be able to post every day as I had been.
> 
> Thanks for the support!!!
> 
> Much love!

**_Your lips, they pout and twist_ **   
**_And I die trying just to keep myself from kissing you_ **   
**_You take in everything with a certainty I envy_ **   
**_It's somehow all I need_ **   
**_Just keep me guessing, please_ **

Sandor arrived home, going straight to Anne's room. He had texted her all day. The most recent text he got after stealing secret smiles with Sansa all sixth period stated she was feeling better, just tired mostly.

He didn't kiss Sansa goodbye like he had been dying to, knowing that PDA would only get them both into a world of trouble. He had settled for a small wave that she returned with a wink.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against Anne's door. When there was no reply, he opened the door to see her sleeping, soft snores filling the room.

He quietly padded over to her, gently pressing his palm to her forehead. She wasn't as warm as she had been in the morning. He took that as a good sign. He ensured there was water next to her bed before heading back to his room.

There he changed into basketball shorts and tennis shoes, heading to the garage to workout. He wound up spending an hour shadow boxing, then another lifting weights. By the time he finished, he only had a couple of hours to kill before Sansa showed up. He drank a protein shake, showered, and then spent the hour or so doing homework and studying for a test on Friday.

When he didn't hear his dad come home, Sandor sent a quick text asking him his location. Sandor didn't feel comfortable leaving Anne all by herself at night. His dad's car in the driveway made people stay away.

Clegane, as his dad, was called by most people around the block, knew him to be a scary fucker you didn't mess with. His reputation from his teenage years had followed him into adulthood. Even if he was drunk most of the time, he could break your face if you came after what was his. During the day, no one was brave enough to attack, come night it was a whole different kind of people.

Sandor didn't trust anyone, especially not where he lived. Some people were spiteful.

His dad sent him a text that he was taking on an overnight shift at the factory. He wouldn't be home until late afternoon tomorrow. Sandor didn't know whether to believe him or not, but if he wasn't coming home, then Sandor sure as hell wasn't leaving.

He checked the time to see it was almost seven. He quickly sent Sansa a text explaining the situation.

She texted him back not long after telling him they could just work on it at his house.

He wasn't going to fight her on the matter. He agreed, and she showed up about ten minutes later. She had dressed again in her red skirt that had his mind going down a dangerous path.

She practically skipped up to him, that mega-watt smile aimed directly at him. It made his heart beat a little too fast for comfort.

She leaped up, wrapping her arms around his neck, knocking him back slightly due to being caught off guard. He righted himself, encircling his arms around her, smiling as she pressed a dozen kisses all over his face.

He groaned softly when her legs wrapped around his hips, locking her heels at the small of his back. "Take me to your room, Sandor." Her breath was hot and fast near his ear. He shuddered when she pressed kisses to the underside of his jaw.

"My sister is home," he muttered, closing the door with his foot, managing to hold her with one arm as he locked it.

He started walking to his room, hoping Anne was still asleep and didn't see them in this precarious position.

"We can be quiet," she giggled.

He rolled his eyes, making it to his room. Sansa gave him a devious smirk as she shut the door behind them.

"Sansa, we have a project we're supposed to be working on," he reminded.

Her lips graze tantalizing over his, a gentle pressure that had his heart pounding. It was a sweet exchange, steepled in understanding and tenderness. He had never experienced the feeling currently trapping his heart in a vice hold before, and even though it terrified him, it was also exhilarating.

He grasped the back of her neck, the arm around her waist tightening as he deepened the kiss. This kiss was hungrier and more urgent. It sufficed to make his blood grow hot, his pulse spiking rapidly. She writhed against him, making him grow that much harder.

Lust was starting to cloud his every thought. Every swipe of her tongue, every needy whimper, all of it was driving him to the edge. Before he could even process it, he was striding over to his bed. One knee, the next, and then she was on her back with his lower body slotted between her inviting thighs.

He pressed close to her until she could no doubt feel his desire pressing against her thigh. His breath stuttered, lips breaking away from hers as he finally processed the position they were in.

"Sansa," he whispered, giving her a look to ensure this was okay with her.

She wriggled underneath him, her eyes hooded with desire. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and that was all it took for him to lose all sense of reason. His hand slid from the back of her neck, grasping her chin between his fingers. His thumb swiped over where she was nibbling her lip, and she released it on a soft gasp. He dropped his hips and dragged his clothed cock roughly against where he was desperate to be inside.

"Sandor," she choked out, her hands grasping at his back.

"I want you so bad," he groaned with a slight roll of his pelvis.

Her nails dug into his back. He hardly felt the pain that accompanied it. His forehead dropped to hers, his large body hunched over her as he began to grind against her. He needed something. He couldn't put it into words what he so badly needed from her. It was an overwhelming feeling.

He felt her hand slide up to the back of his neck, cradling his jaw and urged his lips back against hers. It's like she's pouring her soul into every stroke of her tongue. In the way she sucks on the sensitive flesh of his lower lip. Her booted heels were digging into his lower back, holding him so close. He could actually believe that she wanted this as badly as he did. He would give her anything. He would give her the fucking sun and moon and all the stars in the sky if she asked.

He was so fucked when it came to her.

Sansa-fucking-Stark had _ruined_ him in the best way possible.

His hands smoothed down her waist, feeling each dip, each curve until they reached her thighs. She was so soft beneath his calloused fingertips. He trailed his fingers up the tops of her thighs, feeling the way she quivered beneath him. He had stopped his desperate rocking against her, content with memorizing every inch of her body.

She started to breathe harder when his fingers inched higher and higher until they met lace. Her ankles unlocked, feet planting on the bed as he began to pull back, rising onto his haunches.

Sandor's chest heaved up and down as he gazed down at her. His legs spread with the back of her thighs resting upon the tops of his. He seized her hips, and immediately she arched her back, her chest pressed upwards, revealing two hard points. She reminded him of a cat with the way she stretched her arms above her head, biting on her lower lip with that mischievous glint in her eyes.

She spread her legs open wider and fisted the material of her skirt. A playful smile appeared on her face as she lifted it, and exposed red, lacy panties to his hungry gaze.

"Want to touch?" she said with a teasing lilt.

His gaze fixed on the part of her underwear that had darkened. He may have no idea what the hell he was doing, but he knew what that meant. She was aching for him. 

He did want to touch her.

The only thing was that he had no idea how to bring a girl pleasure. He didn't want to hurt her with his inexperienced fingers accidentally.

"Sandor?"

"Yes," he said as if he just ran up eight flights of stairs. "Yes, I want to touch you."

"Where?" she asked breathily, hiking her skirt up to her waist, revealing the pale flesh of her stomach. She placed her palms flat on her stomach and started slowly dragging them upwards, watching him the entire time.

"Sansa." His breathing had gone shallow as she fiddled with the ends of her top.

"Tell me. I want you to say where," she insisted, drawing her top up to show she wasn't wearing a bra. 

"Oh, fuck," he choked.

Her tits were small and perky; two pink nipples surrounded by a shade darker than her pale skin. She was so fucking perfect. So damn beautiful that it drove him to the brink of insanity with how much he desired her.

"I'm waiting, Sandor." She cupped her breasts in her hands, head falling back as she arched even further into him. She circled her hips, her ass brushing against the tops of his thighs.

"I want to touch your cunt," he growled.

Her head snapped forward, eyes going back and forth between his face and his throat. "What did you just say?"

"Shit, sorry, do you prefer if I call it, uh, a pussy?" A blush settled high on his cheeks, feeling elementary for the way he had gone shy on her.

"No, I like what you called it." Her eyes drifted to the side, causing him to chase her gaze.

"Are you sure? I don't mean to offend."

"Say it again, Sandor," she whispered. She lay back down, her hands returning to stroking her chest.

He licked his lips. Her eyes followed the movement, anticipating his next words.

"I want to touch your cunt, feel how wet you are for me." He was surprised he didn't stammer the whole thing with the way his heart thundered.

"Then do it."

Her eyes softened as she noticed his hesitance. She took his wrist, angling his palm upward, and bravely brought his fingers to the darkened lace. He released a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. His brain was having a difficult time processing the fact she was drenched—the thin material doing nothing to hide her arousal.

His pulse was throbbing hard, an inferno burning underneath his skin. With every inhale, he could smell her, vanilla mixed with a scent that was uniquely her. She squirmed under his feather-light touches, her hand letting go of his wrist, returning it to her chest.

The barrier was too much. He grasped the tops of her panties and began to tug them off. She gasped in surprise, lifting her hips to allow him to yank the material off of her. He slung them off to the side, not caring where they ended up. He shuffled back so that she was lying flat on his bed. Her feet were planted on the bed, allowing him to grab her knees. He spread her open to his gaze like a flower.

He was met with pink skin, a small tuft of red hair on her mound, a shade lighter than the hair on her head. When he glanced up to her face, she was beet red, looking off to the side.

"You're beautiful, Sansa."

She closed her eyes tight at the compliment, nodding as if in thanks. He was staring too intently, he understood that, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her enticing, slick flesh. He felt like a dog that had finally been thrown a bone. His mouth was practically watering at the sight. Suddenly, he was surging off the bed, he grabbed her by her ankles, and pulled her to the edge.

"Sandor," she shrieked, covering her mouth in remembrance of there being someone else home. Someone who he would never be able to look in the eyes again if she caught him in this predicament.

He collapsed to his knees before her. He hurriedly divested her of her boots and placed both her legs over his shoulders. He grasped her waist holding her in place and wasted no time swiping his tongue through the wetness. Her taste was enough to electrify every nerve ending in him. He groaned helplessly against her, laving at her cunt with no finesse whatsoever. He leaned back only to gauge her reaction, to find out if he was making her feel good.

"Am I doing this right?" he murmured.

"Suck on my clit and finger me," she panted in response.

Sandor had heard of the clit before. He knew it would bring a woman an infinite amount of pleasure. He just didn't know what it looked like or where it was located. Her fingers came down, pressing to a spot that his eyes latched onto.

She removed her hand, allowing him to take in the hooded flesh that was slightly swollen. He immediately latched his lips around it, giving it a hard suck. She arched off the bed, letting out a soft cry. He placed his palm on her stomach, pressing her back down into the bed, swirling his tongue around the little bud that had caused such an intense reaction. He wanted to pull more responses out of her.

His fingers trembled as he slid two of them through her folds, clumsily finding her entrance that leaked for him.

"You're so fucking wet," he said in disbelief.

" _Please_ , I need your fingers inside me," she begged, her heels digging into his shoulder blades.

He circled her entrance a couple of times, gathering the slickness before slowly pushing his fingers inwards. He was met by tight, unwavering flesh that spread to accept his intrusion. Her walls clamped down on him when he was only mid-knuckle inside her.

"Am I hurting you?" His voice was deep, lower than it had ever been before.

"I've never been stretched like this," she shyly murmured, shifting trying to soothe the pain he no doubt had inflicted. He promptly removed his fingers and clasped the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot.

"Hey, don't worry, I just have to get used to it. I'm okay, I promise."

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, not entirely sure.

A sad look appeared in her eyes. He hated that he put it there. "No."

He stood to his feet, feeling like a predator standing over her like this. He could never forget that he was more beast than man. Too tall. Too big. Too much.

"It doesn't bother me any. You know that, right?"

She peered up at him. "I've only been with him, and he was," she seemed to ponder her words, "He was nothing special."

Sandor clenched his fists at his sides. He didn't particularly want to think about another guy being with her, especially if it was that twat Harry. He could tell she had been dissatisfied with that relationship. Yet, Sandor was inexperienced. He couldn't give her what she needed.

"Sandor, hey, stay with me." She sat up, eye level with his cock. He tried not to think too hard on that fact. He wanted to focus on her pleasure, not his own. Her hands fiddled with his belt, forcing his eyes back down to hers. She gave him a gentle smile.

He sighed, cradling her jaw with one hand, stroking his thumb back and forth over her cheek. She pressed further into his palm, her eyes fluttering closed.

"I want to make you come," he said softly.

She opened her eyes, her pupils dilating. She stood, slipping her hand into his, she began to walk backward until her back hit the wall.

"Like this," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She stood on tiptoe, pulling him down as she slammed her lips against his.

All rational thought flew out the window, replaced with carnal need. He curled his hand, cupping her roughly between the legs. She whimpered into his mouth, and he eagerly swallowed down her needy moans. His fingers slid back and forth through her slick flesh, one of her legs came up, cinching around his waist, rocking into his strokes.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he growled hot and heavy next to her ear, nipping at her lobe. She dug her nails into the back of his neck, trying to get that much closer to him.

He sunk his middle finger into her, filling her up to the hilt.

"I want you inside me, please, Sandor," she whimpered, sounding out of her mind. He was right there with her, shoving another finger into her. His palm ground against her clit, his fingers spearing in and out of her.

All that could be heard in the room was the sound of their labored breaths, her soft moans, and the sound of her flesh taking what he was giving her.

" _So close_."

She was breathing so hard, keening into him, hanging onto him as if he were her lifeline. He reveled in the feeling of someone needing him so badly. She was so wet his fingers were meeting no resistance, thrusting into her hard and fast.

"I want to feel it, please, give it to me," he rambled, grounding his forehead into hers.

He felt her body start to shake, her eyes rolled back, and he could tell she was about to cry out. His palm clamped down over her mouth, smothering her heady moans. Her walls fluttered madly around his fingers, her body going limp. 

She was so tight, his cock begging him to take what it needed. He ignored his needs and gently removed his hand from her mouth. She took in shuddering breaths, hanging onto him, her body trembling.

He lifted her bridal style into his arms, feeling the way she could hardly manage to stand. He sat at the edge of his bed, holding her close, allowing her to gain her bearings.

"That was amazing."

He chuckled. "Glad I could be of service."

She swatted his chest, but there was no heat behind it. "Don't be silly."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, she cradled his cheek and pulled his lips to hers. It was a soft meeting of lips, a slow glide of tongues, and it felt like so much more than just a kiss. It was like she was trying to tell him something but didn't know how to put it into words. When they parted, she gave him a smile that yanked at his heartstrings.

"You're one of the good guys, aren't you?"

He didn't know what to say to that. Sandor had never seen himself as a good guy. He had done some stupid things throughout his life. Still, he wanted to be a better human being.

He smiled.

"Whatever you say, Sansa."

She fell asleep in his arms.

He knew he would have to wake her eventually and ensure she got home safely.

Until then, he savored the sound of her soft breathing, cherishing the girl that had dug her way into every part of his being.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	20. Taking You There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will most definitely be more than 25 chapters lol
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> Much love :)

_**If I lose my way and forget what I need** _   
_**Just remind me now of what you give to me** _   
_**If you hold my hand and take me where you go** _   
_**I'll show you the side that no one knows** _

The sound of an alarm blared in the room, pulling Sandor straight out of a dead sleep. He fumbled around for his clock, pressing the button on top of it, silence filling the room. He rolled onto his back, running his hands over his face.

He smiled at what had happened on said bed not too long ago.

There was a time he would have laughed at the notion of ever having a girl on his bed. Now that it had actually happened, he was a tad overwhelmed by it all.

He could still taste her on his tongue. His fingers glided back and forth along his lips, remembering how sweet she had been.

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at his chest, that familiar pressure tugging at his heart.

He shouldn't allow himself to be swayed so easily by a pair of pretty eyes and an inviting smile. This was the same girl that would throw away his lunch, make snickering remarks behind his back, and even got her friends to join in on tormenting him. This was also the same girl who always had an apology in her eyes, even while she made his life a living hell. He shouldn't focus on that small detail but he had never been one to follow his own advice.

He liked her— _a lot_.

He didn't want to think about the past and all that it entailed. It scared him to think she was just using him.

He pushed those doubts out of his mind, getting out of bed to get ready for the day. After his shower, he quickly dressed and went to check on Anne.

He gently tapped his knuckles on the door, waiting for her reply.

"Come in," her voice muffled through the door. He opened it, seeing her still cuddled in her blankets.

He took a seat on the side of the bed, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. She was a bit warm, a slight sheen of sweat on her skin.

"You look worse than yesterday," he commented.

"Well, thanks." The sarcasm wasn't hard to miss.

"I'm going to call the doctor."

"No, it's just a fever. I'm fine. I just need some ibuprofen and water."

He was starting to get worried. Anne didn't tend to get sick very often, but when she did, it always sent his anxiety spiraling.

She smacked his hand away, giving him an annoyed look. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not a child anymore, Sandor. I'm thirteen, and when I say I have a cold and a mild fever, that's what I mean."

"You're my sister. I think I have the right to be worried about you."

She rolled her eyes. "You need to focus on getting to school."

"School can wait. I still have time."

She exhaled on a sigh, burrowing more into her covers. "School cannot wait, plus, don't you want to see your girlfriend?"

He sat up straighter, searching her knowing eyes. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Technically, he wasn't lying.

They hadn't exactly discussed the status of their relationship. He was perfectly fine with not labeling them as anything. Not until they spent more time together.

He didn't exactly know if it was some fling, and once Sansa tired of him, she would throw him out in the cold. He would like to think it was more than that, but he knew better than to get his hopes up.

"She was over here last night."

Sandor's eyes widened, he felt sweat bead at his temples. He did not want to have this conversation. Especially if it meant that his baby sister had heard things she did not need to hear.

"You look like you're about to have a panic attack," Anne giggled, pulling the sheets up and over her mouth. He could tell she was smiling due to the way her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"How do you know she was over?" He had to dig for information. He wasn't about to say something to suggest what had happened last night.

"I heard her leaving."

Sandor couldn't stop the relieved sigh that escaped him. He was going to have to change his damn shirt with how he had sweat through it. He seriously thought he was about to have a heart attack.

"I know what you were doing in there, Sandor. I'm not stupid."

Sandor groaned, covering his face. "Anne, for the love of all that is good, don't say that."

"I'm thirteen, not four. I know what sex entails."

Sandor wanted to yell. He never thought he'd ever have to hear those words leave his innocent little sister's mouth. He felt childish for covering his ears and shaking his head, trying to eliminate what she had just said from his mind.

"Sandor, you're acting like a child," Anne called him out. He dropped his hands, crossing his arms over his chest, pinning her with a glare.

"The last thing I want to hear you say is that you know what," he waved his hand frantically, unable to say the word.

"Sex," she said with a deadpan stare of her own.

"Stop saying that."

"I've taken Sex Ed. I'm mature enough to understand it all, unlike some people." She cleared her throat and wandered her eyes over his face. It was a clear sign she was talking about him.

"Forgive me if I don't want to talk about sex with my sister."

"Who else are you going to talk to about it? _Dad_?"

At the mention of ‘dad’, he felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Kurt Clegane was _not_ his father.

He didn't know how to go about telling Anne everything Kurt had told him. It was something for a day where she wasn't under the weather.

"I guess you're right," he muttered.

"So, you two totally-" He put his finger up, she immediately stopped talking, a mischievous look in her eyes.

"We didn't do anything. I have to get to school."

She started laughing, a full belly laugh that had him smiling. "Run while you can, Sandor. We both know your pussy whipped by that girl."

"Where did you learn language like that?" He laughed, grabbing a pillow off the ground, tossing it at her.

"You shall never know." She bellowed a playful evil laugh, catching the pillow with ease. Even when she was sick she had the reflexes of a damn cat.

"You're crazy, kid. Text me if you need anything." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, mussing her hair up.

"Someday, you're going to lose your hand doing that."

She swatted his hand away from her hair, fixing it even though it was already a tangled mess.

"Until then." He saluted her, closing the door softly behind him.

He let out a quiet groan, rubbing his temples.

He couldn't believe he just had that conversation with her. He did not need to know his sister knew anything about the subject of sex. He couldn't stand the thought of some dumb boy having his hands all over her.

He was going into overprotective brother mode without there even being the possibility of a boy.

He shoved yet another thought out of his head, grabbing a quick cup of coffee before heading to school.

∞

Sansa sent a text to Sandor asking him if he would sit with her during lunch. She didn't want to deal with the cheerleading team. They had been talking shit behind her back. She saw the way they covered their mouths and snickered to one another. She chose to ignore what they had to say. Jeyne was the only one that was a true friend to her, and that's all she cared about.

She found Sandor sitting at the bleachers where they had decided to meet up. He wasn't eating anything. He just sat staring off into space.

She came up beside him, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. He came out of his daze, smiling at her.

"Hey, you hungry?" She held up a BLT sandwich.

"You sure you want to share?" A teasing tone to his husky voice.

"I figured you would say that." She pulled out another and earned a soft laugh.

He took it and thanked her, proceeding to take a large bite. They ate in comfortable silence, sharing a coke that she had bought out of the vending machine.

"Last night was fun," she said.

Sitting on the right side of him, she saw the flush that had settled on his cheek. "Yeah, it was."

"We'll have to work on our project tonight. We seem to keep getting distracted."

"Just a little," he replied, taking a drink of the coke.

"So, how are things going with the club?"

He folded his hands in his lap, staring at his boots. "Better than anticipated. They treat me with respect and encourage me to do my best. I guess I wasn't expecting a bunch of threatening biker dudes to give two shits about a guy like me."

"I guess that whole saying 'never judge a book by its cover' is true," she murmured, combing a strand of hair behind her ear.

He looked over at her, a question in his eyes. He seemed nervous to say what he wanted, tugging his lip between his teeth.

"You can ask me anything, Sandor," she reassured, placing her hand on his thigh, giving it an encouraging squeeze. She felt him go rigid beneath her touch.

He cleared his throat. "I feel silly talking about it."

She took both his hands in hers, raking her eyes over the wisps of hair that dusted his fingers. She smoothed her thumb over the veins that raced through the back of his hands, noticing the tiny white spindly lines of scars that marred his skin. She flipped his hand, palm up, and ghosted her fingertips over the callused surface. He had such rough hands, large and intimidating, and yet, she knew how gently they could touch her.

She raised her eyes to his. "I'll listen to anything you have to say, Sandor. I won't judge you."

"Why did you hate me so much?" he blurted.

She had not been prepared for such a question. She straightened, tightening her hold on his hands.

"I never hated you," she whispered.

He bit at his lip to the point she worried he would draw blood.

He let out a shaky breath. "You tormented me daily. You couldn't stand the sight of me. What changed?"

She saw the affliction in his stormy gaze. She wanted to soothe his worries, his doubts, but he was also bringing up a valid point. She did do awful things to him. Unforgivable things. It made sense as to why he was asking her such a question. He was confused.

She steeled her nerves, gathering the strength to answer him.

"There is no excuse for what I did to you. Anything I say will sound like I'm trying to put myself in a better light. The truth is that I wanted to fit in. I heard the things that people said behind your back. They called you a monster, and I believed it. I was trying to make a name for myself, and then I saw you that first time. You were staring at me, and I realized you were no monster. You were just a boy. A very tall boy, but still, you were so young. There was a pain to your eyes, and I knew that you would be my downfall. You would make me give up on the reputation that I had been building for myself. I lashed out like an angry child, and I hurt you because I was afraid of what I felt.

"I did heinous things to you, Sandor. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve you, but god, I like you so much. I don't want to give you up. I want to be with you and only you. I have never really felt like I was living, not until I felt your lips against mine. You make me feel alive, and I want to make you happy. I don't want you ever to feel lonely again. Not as long as I'm around."

Sansa was out of breath by the time she finished talking. She could make no excuse for how cruelly she treated him. However, she could make amends for all that she had done by showing him how much he meant to her. She knew actions always spoke louder than words, though.

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, letting her lips linger. His hand came up, cupping the nape of her neck, turning her head, and leaned down to press a soft kiss against her lips.

"I understand, little bird," he merely said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose and pulled away. She missed the warmth of him immediately, craving the comfort he provided.

"I should have been kinder to you."

"You were under a lot of pressure."

"That's no excuse for the things I did."

He hesitated before he spoke again. "I just needed to hear what changed, and now I know." He stroked his thumb over the top of her hand. "You make me feel alive, too," he said softly.

Her heart felt full. She may never forgive herself entirely for the way she treated him. Still, she knew he had forgiven her. It was enough for her to feel some relief. She would never stop working on bettering herself. She would become worthy of being with Sandor one day.

"Sansa?"

"Yes?"

"My dad isn't my real father."

The bell rang, signaling lunch was coming to an end. Silence overcame them. She struggled to find the right words. He continued talking, allowing her to gather her thoughts.

"My mom left him and had me with another man. I'm not sure why she left my real dad, but I grew up with a man that has no blood relation to me. My step-brother did this to my face, and Anne is my half-sister."

He trembled, tears beading at the corners of his eyes.

She knew that look. He was terrified.

"He doesn't know who your real dad is?"

He shook his head, swiping at his cheek. Her heart broke to see him in pain. She wondered how long he had been bottling these emotions.

"Sandor, you know that Anne will always be your sister, no matter what."

A soft sob escaped his chest. She acknowledged that as the main reason why he was torn up about the situation. He didn't have much love for his dad. She couldn't imagine learning that someone you lived with all your life wasn't who you thought they were.

"I should have known. I look nothing like him or her."

She stood, standing in front of him, and gently placed her hand on the back of his head. She pulled him towards her, his face burrowing into her stomach, his hands seizing her hips. Her other hand clung to the back of his shirt, keeping him close. She felt his thumbs digging into her hipbones, but she made no complaint.

He needed her. She would be his rock. His comfort.

She would be anything he needed her to be for as long as he liked.

She felt wetness seeping into her clothes. She didn't care. She wanted to steal all his sorrow and take it upon herself.

Sansa used to cry for hours upon end after her father died. The only thing that could soothe her was the sound of her mom's gentle lullabies. She wondered if singing would help calm the storm that had seized Sandor in its unrelenting grasp.

Sansa recalled one of her favorites and softly began to sing. She felt Sandor stiffen at the sound of her voice. She kept singing and slowly but surely felt him start to relax, the tears subsiding.

"You have a beautiful voice." It was muffled due to him nuzzling his nose into her stomach.

"Did it help?"

"Yeah, reminded me of when my mom used to sing to me. Someone else used to sing to me too. I remember his voice, but I can't remember his face."

The five-minute bell rang, signaling to get your ass to class or get written up. They were stricter around lunchtime. Students tended to ditch the most right before fourth period.

"Your birth father?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"If you could meet him, would you want to?"

Sandor let go of her, getting to his feet, cleaning his face off. He grimaced when he saw her shirt covered in his tears. She waved a hand, giving him a big smile.

It didn't bother her.

She could change into her cheerleading outfit.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not sure if he wants to meet me, though."

She placed her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sure he would love to meet you, and if he didn't, well, screw him then."

She was delighted to see the broad smile that appeared on his face. He looked so happy, staring down at her with affection evident in his eyes. He reached out, sliding his hand slowly into her hair. Her gut coiled with heat at the desire in his eyes. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, pulling her into him.

"Little bird," he murmured.

A soft sigh escaped her the moment he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

_So gentle._

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	21. Fear the Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you are all enjoying!
> 
> I'm sorry I'm taking forever to respond to your comments but just know I do read them and highly enjoy them!!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> Much love! <3

**_I fear the fire_ **  
**_Burning below_ **  
**_Its gonna to trick you_ **  
**_Swallow you whole_ **

Sansa leaned against the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and scrolling through her phone. The house was quiet due to her waking up at the crack of dawn. It was Saturday. She knew her family would be sleeping in past eight, unlike their usual morning schedule.

Sansa hadn't been able to sleep much all night. She was too restless. Something was shifting between her and Sandor, something that made her feel warm all over. It was a feeling, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She could almost akin it to love.

It wasn't like the love she felt towards her family, a love that was soothing like the sound of rain. No, this love burned her from the inside out. It clawed its way into her every pore, her every thought, consuming her entire being.

It made her realize that before Sandor, she had felt indifferent towards the world. The pressure to be perfect left her feeling empty, and she was just moving through life to get by. With him around, everything changed, everything was warm, and she could see a future where he was ever-present.

A giddiness settled in her thinking about how she and Sandor had snuck brief kisses while he was over. They were careful not to get caught and even managed to write a couple of pages for their story. They talked more about their interests and discussed further the situation of his dad.

She listened to him, allowing him to get his feelings about it out on the table. Once he finished, she could tell there was a weight lifted off his shoulders. He even seemed ready to discuss the matter with his sister. It was something she knew had been at the forefront of his mind since he found out about his dad.

That night she dropped him off, taking all the kisses she could before he insisted he had to go inside. He always worried about her safety due to where he lived. She could tell it made him uneasy having her around his place after dark. She found it endearing that he cared, but it also made her sad that he had to live in a neighborhood where he couldn't even relax.

She wanted Sandor to be happy. He deserved everything life had to offer. He may believe that he would never go to college, Sansa thought differently on the matter. She would help Sandor go to college if that was what he wanted. He was highly intelligent, good at math from what she could tell, and had an apt understanding of things she could hardly wrap her head around. He had the potential for greatness, and she wouldn't sit by while he wasted away working for a club that would lead him into danger.

She couldn't accurately judge the motorcycle club. She didn't know if their intentions were good or bad. Still, they wanted him to be the muscle of the crew which would put him into life or death situations. She wasn't sure she could handle that. 

"You're up early."

Sansa was shaken from her line of thinking, seeing that Petyr had walked in, making a beeline for the coffee maker. He was dressed impeccably as always, the scent of his heavy cologne enough to make her want to gag.

"Yeah, I was going to go on a run." It was a lie. She hadn't planned on going on her typical Saturday run, figuring she would work on homework instead. With him up so early, bright and awake, she would rather get out of the house than spend time in the same proximity.

Petyr glanced at his gold watch wrapped around his thin wrist. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "It's six in the morning, Sansa. The sun isn't even out yet. You shouldn't be running around when it's dark. It's dangerous."

She wanted to tell him that he was dangerous, and yet, here she was standing in the same kitchen as him. She figured he wouldn't appreciate the comment, drowning it with a sip of her coffee.

She went back to scrolling through her phone, choosing to ignore him rather than get into a pointless argument. It would annoy him, but he usually got the hint to leave her alone.

This morning was different, though. She could feel his beady eyes raking over her, causing her skin to erupt into goosebumps, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"How's your project coming along?"

Sansa had no desire whatsoever to speak to Petyr. He had progressively gotten worse with the way he looked at her like she was a piece of meat that he wanted to eat. His vomit-inducing touches to her back, always made her want to run away. She hated the man and wished she dared to tell her mom about him.

"It's going well."

Petyr inched closer to her. She stiffened at the way his eyes were dark and threatening. "How's the Clegane boy? Has he been behaving himself?"

Sansa didn't miss the utter spite and hatred in his tone. It was scaring her, and he was drawing closer and closer to her.

"Sandor is fine." She would not discuss anything about Sandor with Petyr. It was none of his business what transpired between Sandor and herself.

A flash of malice crossed his expression. She narrowed her eyes, gathering the strength to not back down to him.

"You shouldn't be hanging around that boy. Do you think I didn't notice that he didn't come over here the other day and that you were gone?"

"His dad had to work late, and he couldn't leave his sister. We worked on the project there instead so he could keep an eye on her."

Petyr placed his coffee cup down hard enough to make some splash over the edges. His focus was entirely on her, trying to make her bend to his will, to be afraid of him.

"You're telling me you went over to his place without any adult supervision around?" His voice was starting to pitch with anger.

She swallowed hard, trying with much difficulty to steel her nerves. The fear currently building up inside of her was causing her adrenaline to spike. The counter dug into the small of her back as she pressed further against it. She had nowhere to run.

"We worked on the project," she reiterated, keeping the fear out of her tone.

"Do not lie to me," he hissed vehemently. "I know what that boy wants from you, and I have no doubts that you handed it over to him."

She flinched, making his eyes alight with victory. She wasn't prepared to stand down. She should keep her mouth quiet, but she couldn't take it anymore. "You don't know anything about Sandor. Don't put him in the same category as you," she spat, clutching tight to the handle of her cup.

"What did you just say?" He stepped to where there was hardly a couple of feet between them. He was the same height as her, and yet, he could make her feel so small.

"Sandor doesn't just want me because I have a pretty face or a nice body. He likes me for more than what is at face value. You, on the other hand, look at me like you want to push my face in the dirt and take what you want but can never have willingly."

She was not prepared for the slap across her face. It was hard enough to make her knees wobble, collapsing to the floor. She stared up at his seething form, scrambling back into the cabinets, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"If you even dare say anything to your mother, I'll make sure your friend never sees the light of day again. Don't test me, Sansa." Without another word, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving her rattled to her very core. She heard the sound of his sports car, and then he was gone.

She sat on the floor for what felt like a century until she managed to pick herself up off the unforgiving ground. She ached all over, and her cheek felt like it was on fire. She hurried up the stairs, thankful that everyone was still fast asleep. She locked the door behind her and broke down, silencing her sobs into her palm.

She didn’t know what to do anymore. It was agony having to live with the constant fear of what Petyr would do to her, let alone what he would do to Sandor. He had connections in higher places, and she wouldn't put it past him to make good on his threat.

She was desperate to see Sandor, but he had told her that he was busy on Saturdays due to the club. If she couldn't see him, then she would call him.

She needed to hear the sound of his voice.

She found his number in her phone, pressing call, and hoped that he would answer.

∞

Sandor had barely finished his workout, about to get in the shower when the sound of his phone ringing caught his attention. He hardly received any phone calls, figuring it must be important, he hurried back into his room, answering it before it could go to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Sansa."

Sandor's brow furrowed in the middle, hearing the slight quiver in her voice.

"Hey, you okay?" He sat at the edge of his bed, rubbing a sweaty palm over his knee.

"No," she admitted. "I'm not."

"What's wrong?" He tried not to sound so demanding, but when it came to Sansa, he hated to hear her sound so defeated. He needed to know what was wrong so he could do everything in his power to help fix it.

She hesitated for a moment or two, and his heart started to pound harder, worry rooting deep in his gut. "Little bird, I'm here for you," he assured her, hoping it would bring her some comfort.

"Petyr, he was asking me questions about you. I stood up to him. I told him that I knew what he thought of me, that he wants me though he can never have me, and he slapped me, Sandor," she whispered.

Sandor's heart lurched into his throat; darkness started to seep in all around him, clouding his vision until all he could see was red.

"He slapped you?" His voice strained, and his nails were digging into his knee, drawing blood.

"There's a bruise, Sandor, and now I have to cover it up, so my family doesn't see. He told me if I tell my mom he's going to kill you, Sandor. He's going to kill you if I say anything. I'm so scared," she cried.

All he wanted to do at that moment was hold her and whisper sweet nothings, promise her things he didn't know he could keep. He just wanted to be there for her, but he was stuck. He had no car, and if he went over, he could end up upsetting Petyr further, and he wasn't sure how that would go over for Sansa. He didn't know if that fucker would harm her in retaliation.

"I'm going to kill that bastard, Sansa. Do you hear me? He won't hurt you, and he sure as hell won't be getting rid of me anytime soon."

"How do you know that? He knows people, Sandor."

"I know people, too," Sandor growled.

He was losing his cool. He had the urge to punch something and yell at the top of his lungs. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone laying a harmful hand upon his girl. He sought destruction. He would gladly tear Petyr's throat out with his fucking teeth if he had to.

"Sandor, I don't want you to get into trouble," she warned.

"Would you rather me be dead?" It was a stupid question, but his blood was up, and he couldn't quite gather many rational thoughts besides destroy and kill.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I'll take care of him, Sansa. You fucking tell your mom to get you the hell out of there. I'm not going to allow him to lay hands on you, and I sure as hell don't want Arya to get hurt either."

He had a soft spot for the little firecracker. She reminded him of his sister, and he would rather die than see her get hurt protecting Sansa. He knew she would. She was the only one who stood up for her family. The only one brave enough to fight for what's right.

"I can't tell her, Sandor. I can't. Don't do anything stupid."

"Sansa-"

"No, Sandor. I'll figure something out. I can't risk anything happening to you."

"Petyr is eventually going to-"

"Enough. I'll be fine."

Sandor tugged at his hair, his breathing hard and dense. She had called him. She had told him what that man had done, and now she was telling him to sit by and do nothing? He didn't understand.

"You want me just to sit here while that fucker hits you?"

"Sandor, I promise you, I won't say something stupid like I did again. I'll avoid him. The house is big. I can easily do that."

Unable to hold back his anger any longer, he slammed his fist into the wall, creating a crater in the drywall. He heard her gasp, and could already feel her drawing away from him.

"I should go," she whispered.

"Yeah, bye," he snarled, hanging up the phone. He tossed the shitty device on the bed, refusing to break it even though his brain was screaming for him to do so. He couldn’t stand the thought of him and Sansa fighting, but she had put him in a corner.

He stared at the damage he had created, glad that no one had seemed to hear him. His dad had gone off somewhere last night after Sansa dropped him off and was yet to return. He didn't really want to think too hard on the matter. Anne had barely started getting over being sick, most likely still sound asleep.

He breathed harshly, trying to get his thoughts in order, so he didn't come off as a raging lunatic in front of his sister.

He only wanted to help Sansa. He didn't want Petyr laying another hand on her, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stand idly by and do nothing to prevent him from doing such a thing.

Sandor knew what he had to do. It would take time and planning, but soon enough, Sandor would make Petyr realize that when you mess with fire, you're more than likely to get burned.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO
> 
> My tumblr
> 
> [Here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spikeisinspace)


	22. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling the love, holy moly. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been sticking with me on this wild ride of a story. I love you all!
> 
> Much love!

_**If I could start again** _   
_**A million miles away** _   
_**I will keep myself** _   
_**I would find a way** _

"Are you sure you're still up to going today?" Sandor asked Anne, who was already dressed in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. She was currently tying the laces of sneakers, casting an annoyed look up at him.

"I told you I feel fine. I'll just ask Elaine if we can watch a movie." She hopped to her feet, giving him a twirl, a small smile curling her lips. "See, I'm fine."

Sandor laughed, moving to muss up her hair. She dodged him at the last minute, shooting him a scowl as she walked past him. He heard her rustling around in the kitchen, most likely scavenging for snacks. He was sure Elaine would feed her, but it was still instilled in both of them that food was hard to come by, and you have to take what you can.

Sandor let out a sigh, moseying into the bathroom to fix his hair and brush his teeth. Anne was growing up way too fast for his liking. Soon enough, she wouldn't need him. She used to love it when he messed with her hair, and now she couldn't stand it. Things were changing at light speed, and Sandor wasn't sure he could keep up.

He was juggling so many things at once. He was surprised he hadn't spontaneously combusted. He wanted to make everything right, to ensure that everyone he cared for was taken care of and happy. It was a lot harder than he had planned, but he wasn't the type to give up. He would right the wrongs, and if that cost him part of his soul, then he'd go down fighting.

∞

Sandor followed Tormund into the clubhouse, noting that everybody was present today.

Gendry rushed up to him, a broad smile on his face. He shoved the dark hair that had fallen into his eyes off of his face, peering up at Sandor.

"I drew up what you texted me. I'll show you later if you want? Boss is calling a meeting. It's something major if you're invited," he said excitement dancing in his eyes.

"I'm invited to a meeting?" Sandor asked, dumbstruck. "It's only been a week."

Tormund came up beside him, clapping his hand down upon Sandor's back. "Yes, a week where you've learned more than most people around here."

Tormund gave Gendry the side-eye. He feigned being affronted, unable to hold it for long, dissolving into laughter, and playfully throwing punches at Tormund. They wound up wrestling for real. To Sandor's surprise, Gendry put up quite the fight, even getting the upper hand on Tormund a few times. Ultimately Tormund came out on top, and they shook hands in proper sportsmanship.

Beric came out of a room, giving a mere look, and walked back inside. Immediately, everyone was walking into the room. Gendry hung back until Tormund wrapped his arm around his shoulders and tugged him along. Gendry gave Sandor a wide-eyed look, genuinely surprised to be entering through the two enormous wooden doors.

Once in the room, everyone took a seat except for Sandor and Gendry, who stood awkwardly side by side. Zane sat at the head of the table, his hands steepled in front of him, elbows on the intricately carved wooden table before him.

"Welcome to Church boys," Zane said. One side of his lips tilted up in the whisper of a smile.

"Sir," Gendry stammered.

"Good to see you again, sir," Sandor said with a nod of his head.

"I guess you're both wondering why the fuck you're here."

They nodded in unison.

"Tormund, how about you tell our friend Gendry why he is here."

"Gladly." Tormund shot to his feet, stomping over to Gendry with a stern expression on his face. "Give me your vest, prospect."

Gendry's brows drew together in confusion, and he shook his head. "I've done everything you guys asked."

"The vest, I'm not going to ask you again," Tormund demanded, putting his hand out with a look of expectance.

From what Sandor could tell, Gendry was already close to tears as he shrugged off the vest, handing it over to Tormund.

"Now, do you swear to represent our name and patch?"

Gendry's head shot up, and that's when a broad smile broke out on Tormund's face. Everyone at the table began to hoot and holler, drumming on the table as Gendry seemed to process what was happening.

"Yes?" He questioned, running both hands in his hair, bewildered.

"Do you swear to give everything to protect your brothers and uphold the reputation and honor of the club?"

"Yes," he replied, realization finally settling in.

"Do you swear to abide by our rules and by-laws and never to turn your back on your brothers?"

"Of course!"

"I Tormund, road captain, patches you Gendry into the Night Diablo's Club." Bronn tossed a new vest to Tormund, who handed it proudly to Gendry.

Gendry took it with trembling hands. On the front, his last name stitched onto the pocket. When he flipped it over, there was a werewolf. It's black fur spiked out, red eyes glowing, teeth and claws long and jagged. Lightning surged around it, in blues and whites. It was badass. Gendry pulled it on, going around the table and hugging every single person. Brienne put him into a headlock and gave him a noogie. The whole table erupted in laughter, Sandor made himself invisible against the wall, happy for Gendry, but not sure why the hell he was here in the first place.

The noise settled down, Zane rising to his feet. "Sandor, you know you're tall as fuck, right? You're not very inconspicuous standing over there like you're about to bolt."

The table erupted in laughter, not to patronize, and Sandor relaxed, pushing off the wall. "I guess I 'm confused as to why I'm here. Aren't these church meetings a big deal?"

"Yes, they are, and there's a fundamental reason as to why you were welcomed inside."

Zane walked up to Sandor, clasping his hands on his shoulders. "You have shown great potential in the past week. You are fucking smart as all hell. You are capable of fighting and know how to get back on your feet when you're knocked down. If someone had told me that this kid that sold on my turf would turn out to be someone I'd respect, I would have laughed in their face. You are more than capable of handling your own, kid. So, I just have a few questions that I want to ask you if that's all right with you?"

Sandor's heart was pounding like a stampede of wild horses. He had to force himself to nod, unable to speak through the emotion clogging his throat.

"Do you swear to represent our name and patch?"

Sandor tried to step back, but Zane held steadfast to his shoulders, not allowing for an escape. The last thing Sandor deserved was to be accepted in this club with open arms. They hardly knew him. He didn't know how they could trust him, yet.

"Answer him, kid," Bronn hollered, obviously well into his drinks.

"Yes," he whispered, bringing a smile to Zane's face.

"Do you swear to give everything to protect your brothers and uphold the reputation and honor of the club?"

"Yes."

"Do you swear to abide by our rules and by-laws and never to turn your back on your brothers?"

"Always," Sandor breathed, worried his heart was about to tear right out of his chest.

"I Zane, president, patches you Sandor into the Night Diablo's Club."

Sandor's breath hitched as Zane took a vest from Tormund and handed it to him. He grasped the leather, staring at the patch that beheld his name, and on the back in big, bold letters sprawled across the top was 'Enforcer.' He could hardly process what had just happened. The blood was whooshing in his ears, leaving him deaf to the hooting and hollering occurring around him.

Sandor lifted his gaze, seeing the pride in Zane's eyes. He didn't understand how he had put such a look on his face only after a week of training and learning the ways of the club. Sandor had had meaningful conversations with most of the club. Still, he didn't think it'd be enough to get him initiated.

He was an 'Enforcer' now, and he knew what that meant, and what came with it. He would be a protector, and he would have to get his hands dirty, but it would all be worth it if he were helping the people currently surrounding him. So many people hugged him, he felt his mind spinning, until he found himself on a couch seated next to Zane, staring at the vest in his hands.

Everybody had turned to drinking, Gendry was currently at the bar taking shot after shot, wearing his vest with pride. Tormund and Bronn were pounding back beer after beer, Tormund blatantly hitting on Brienne. She merely rolled her eyes and continued to sip on her mixed drink. Everyone was having the time of their lives, but Sandor was still trying to process the fact he was now a part of what he considered a family. His sister was adored by not only Elaine but the club as well. He finally had found what he had been searching for a place to belong, to feel safe.

Zane stood, motioning for Sandor to join him. "I got a surprise for you, kid."

Sandor nodded, unable to put the vest on just yet, and followed Zane outside. They approached a Harley Sportster. Sandor had always wanted a motorcycle, never thinking it would be plausible with the job he would wind up with. From what he could tell, it was a 2018 Sportster, all black, with a grey gas tank. He smiled at it, wishing he could have a bike as beautiful as this one.

"Like it?" Zane asked, coming to stand beside Sandor.

"It's beautiful," Sandor admitted.

"Well, she is yours." Zane held a pair of keys towards Sandor.

"What are you talking about?" Sandor asked, bewildered, clutching tight to his vest. His eyes shifted from Zane's face down to the bike and back again. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he was sure he would pinch himself and wake from this fantastic dream.

"You need something to get you around. You can't walk everywhere. I already handled the insurance. We'll just need to get your motorcycle permit, and then I can put the bike in your name. You have a driver's license?"

"Yeah, my dad may have never let me drive much, but he took me to get my license at sixteen. I passed it with flying colors," he said without really hearing himself. He was on auto-pilot mode.

"Perfect, then we can schedule your test for this Monday after your done with school. I want you riding the beauty as soon as possible."

Sandor swallowed hard, turning towards Zane. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

Zane merely laughed. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"

Sandor shook his head, staring at his feet. "I'm more than thankful for all that you've given me. I can't even start to say how much it means to me, but you hardly know me, how do you know I'm worthy of your trust?"

"You're a good kid, Sandor. All of us can see that. You are loyal, and I know I can trust you because you wear your heart on your sleeve. It's both a gift and a curse, but it's better than never having the ability to show people the real you. I only needed a week to see your worth, kid. You are everything this club needs, and more. Don't forget that."

"Zane!" Gendry shouted. "Come sing! _Please_! Save us, Tormund has decided to sing!"

Zane bellowed a laugh, waving at Gendry to go back inside. He saluted Zane and stumbled back into the clubhouse.

"You're part of this family, whether you like it or not, kid, get used to it." Zane squeezed Sandor's shoulder and made his way back into the clubhouse.

Sandor took a moment to breathe, staring down at the bike that was now his. With an unsteady hand, he stroked over the handle with just his fingertips. He didn't even know how to repay Zane's kindness, but he sure as hell would try by dedicating himself to the club.

Sandor finally shrugged the vest on, and it fit his person as if it were always meant to be his. He walked with his head held high back into the club, stopping short when he heard the smooth voice singing 'Hurt' by Nine Inch Nails. Everyone was staring fondly at Zane, who held a guitar, effortlessly playing and singing. Sandor's legs felt like lead as he moved closer to where Zane played in the middle of the clubhouse, near the pool table.

He knew that voice. He swore he had heard it before.

It was melodic and comforting. Soothing to put it into simple terms.

Sandor watched the range of emotions that swarmed across Zane's face. His black hair shoved behind his ears, the tips touching his shoulders. His grey eyes were wandering over everyone, tanned skin that didn't seem to have a single wrinkle upon it. His crooked nose as if it were broken one too many times, the tilt of his lips as he smiled, all of it was familiar.

It hit him like a freight train where he remembered the voice from.

It had sung him lullabies. It had erased his tears and brought him comfort.

Sandor could hardly breathe; the oxygen in the room had vanished. He held his chest, stumbling backward, causing all attention to be drawn to him. Zane stopped playing, a worried expression upon his face as he set his guitar down.

Tormund hurried to Sandor's side right as the room started to spin out of control for Sandor. The last thing he saw was the frightened eyes of everybody in the room, and then everything went dark.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	23. Fleeting Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3

_**Life's too short to sit around and wait** _   
_**Take a chance and live in the moment** _   
_**With the wind in my hair and the windows down I lost my cares** _   
_**And the world outside is so full of life I lose my fears** _

Sandor wearily opened his eyes, feeling something being pressed against his face. It was cold as it dragged across his neck, jolting him fully awake. Now that he could see clearly, he noted that he was staring up into a bunch of worried eyes. Everyone started talking all at once, making his head spin.

There was warmth in contrast to the cold, and he realized he was literally on the floor, the back of his head cradled in the crook of Tormund's arm.

"Holy shit, kid, you scared the living daylights out of me," Tormund said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Brienne hovered, dabbing Sandor's skin with the wet cloth. "You broke out into a cold sweat," she informed. "You went pale as a ghost before you passed out. Have you eaten today?"

"No," Sandor croaked. He had no idea how long he been unconscious, and his throat felt dry as sandpaper.

"I barely managed to catch you. You're a heavy motherfucker, dropped me right on my ass!" Tormund laughed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to stand.

"Hey, don't try to stand too quickly," Brienne insisted.

She waved for Zane and Bronn to help him to his feet with Tormund's assistance. They managed to get him to the couch. He immediately sagged into it, his body not obeying his commands.

"Someone get the boy a fucking burger or something," Bronn griped. Gendry had seemed to sober up right away and rushed out of the clubhouse.

"I'm fine," Sandor murmured, pressing his palm to his forehead. He had a massive headache.

"No, you just passed out and haven't eaten all day. You're not fine." Brienne glared down at him and shoved a water bottle into his hand. "Now, drink."

Sandor was not about to disobey Brienne, not with that crazy look in her eyes. He took the water and chugged the whole thing, thanking her.

Gendry didn't take too long to come back with a bag of chips and a plate full of tacos. He rushed over to Sandor. "Here, friend, eat up."

Sandor thanked him, devouring the food. He hadn't realized he was that hungry. Due to everything going on inside his head, eating had hardly been at the forefront of his mind.

He managed to gain complete motor control of his body again and sat up straight, remembering the reason why he had knocked out in the first place. Everybody had given him space while he ate. Tormund, Bronn, and Gendry all sat at the bar, sipping on their beers, making idle conversation. Brienne stood next to Beric, arms crossed and nodding at whatever Beric was talking about.

Sandor's eye finally connected with Zane. His heart plummeted into his stomach with the knowledge that this was his birth father.

It _had_ to be.

He was Zane's lost long son, and he had no idea how to tell him. He didn't know if Zane would even believe him.

Zane walked over, taking a seat next to Sandor, causing his anxiety to shoot through the roof.

"You sure gave us all a fright," Zane said.

"I'm sorry. I guess I should have eaten." Sandor fussed with a loose thread at the end of his shirt, trying and failing to stay calm and collected.

"Sandor, I know what fear looks like. I've seen it before on countless faces. You were scared. I'm not sure of what, but something had you spooked, and then all the light went out in your eyes. I thought you were going to break your head open. My heart nearly stopped beating, seeing you fall back, too far away to catch you." Zane paused, rubbing at his chest, and started to talk in a soft voice. "There's a feeling in my chest that hasn't gone away since the moment I laid eyes on you. I feel connected to you in some way that I can't explain. I don't understand it."

A troubled expression appeared on Zane's face. He lifted his gaze staring straight into Sandor's eyes.

Sandor trembled from head to toe; he could only hope that he didn't vomit everything he had just eaten.

With shaky hands, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it, reaching behind his driver's license to take out the picture he kept with him at all times. He handed it over to Zane, who took it gently out of his fingers. Zane's brows furrowed in at the middle. Sandor watched as he raked his gaze over the photo. It was a picture of his mom. It was the only way to prove anything.

Zane gazed at the photo for some time, until his breathing turned shallow, and he slowly looked over at Sandor.

Sandor dug his nails into his palms, his knuckles bleeding into white, allowing Zane to process what he had told him without saying a word.

"It can't be," Zane whispered, the picture slipping out from between his fingers.

Zane reached out, cupping the scarred side of Sandor's face, analyzing every detail of the side that was not. His other hand came up, cradling the other side, tears welling up in his eyes as he stared at Sandor in disbelief. A sob escaped Zane's chest, and then another, until he completely broke down, wrapping his arms around Sandor, and pulled him close.

Sandor's chin rested on Zane's shoulder as he returned the embrace.

Sandor could hear the pain in Zane's wretched sobs. They attested to how much not knowing his son had hurt him over the years. Sandor understood his heartbreak, his sorrow, and his loss.

Sandor would have gone his entire life, not knowing his birth father if Kurt hadn't told him the truth. He had thought his birth father wouldn't ever want to meet him, and now that he had, he knew those worries had been for naught.

Zane had searched for him. He had wanted to know his son. Sandor wanted to be angry at his mom, but he couldn't. He didn't understand why she fled, and he may never understand why either. It was in the past now. He found his dad; things had been made right in the universe for once in Sandor's life.

Sandor noticed everybody had gone tense in the room. They could only stare with wide eyes and open mouths, not understanding what was going on.

Once Zane had calmed his breathing, the sobs subsiding; he pulled back with a smile that made happy tears streak down Sandor's face.

"You're my son," Zane said in awe.

Sandor felt like he was on cloud 9. He could hardly believe that all because he dealt on the wrong turf, he wound up meeting an MC club that turned out to be some of the kindest people he had ever met, and led him to his long-lost father. He had never been one to believe in fate or destiny, but something or someone was looking out for him.

"Yeah, I think I am," Sandor replied, a watery smile on his face.

"Wait, you're telling me this is your kid? The one we've been searching for all this time?" Tormund asked, bewildered.

Zane could only nod, unable to turn his attention away from Sandor.

Sandor couldn't look away either. He took in every feature that matched, trying to figure out how they could have both not known from the minute they met that they were related.

The similarities were uncanny. They both had the same eyes, heavy brow line, sharp cheekbones, and a strong jaw. They were both way too tall and had the same build. It was almost scary that they had been utterly blind to what was standing right in front of them.

"All this time, he's been right under our noses," Bronn muttered with a shake of his head.

"I think we should give them some space," Brienne said, heading out of the clubhouse. Nobody hesitated in following her, leaving Zane and Sandor by themselves.

Without speaking, Zane stood, and went behind the bar, grabbing two beers. He motioned towards a table, Sandor responded with a nod, and went over to it, taking a seat across from Zane.

Zane pushed the beer towards Sandor.

"Cheers." He raised his own, tipping it towards Sandor.

"Cheers."

They clinked the top of their bottles together and took a long pull until they both came up breathless, half their beers gone. They both stared at the other and dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Once they came down from the high of their laughter, Sandor took another drink and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand.

"I guess it was pretty obvious from the start, huh, kid?"

Sandor nodded, picking at the label of his bottle. "I guess so."

"I feel like I'm dreaming."

Sandor chuckled. "Me too."

"I never thought I'd see you again. I'd always hoped, but I just thought it wasn't possible. Now you're here, and I feel like that part of me that was always missing is finally whole."

Sandor knew precisely what he meant. He had always felt a part of him missing too. When he lost his mom, she took a piece of his heart. He still had Anne, though. It was another significant piece missing, and he didn't know who it belonged to until now.

"I grew up wondering why I felt like a black sheep. I looked nothing like Kurt, and I only shared some similarities to my mom. I felt out of place, and I could tell Kurt had no love for me. I tried to be a good kid, but it was never enough. All this time, you were out there, and they kept you away from me. Kurt didn't have to say it, but I know that he had some idea of who you were. I'm happy, but I'm angry too."

Sandor clenched his fist, the other strangling the bottle. Zane reached out, placing his hand on Sandor's. "There is no time to waste worrying about what could have been. You're here, and that is all that matters to me. I won't waste a second more wishing things could have been different."

Sandor swallowed hard, taking a shuddering breath, and looked Zane straight in the eye. "I'm glad I finally met you, dad."

Zane's chin trembled, a visible sign that he was on the verge of tears again. "I'm glad I finally met you, son."

He patted Sandor's hand, pulling back to finish off his beer.

They sat in comfortable silence, seeming to not want to overwhelm the other with questions. Sandor figured there was no time like the present to ask for something he needed. He didn’t have time to waste when it came to helping Sansa.

"I know things are new between us, but I have a favor to ask."

"You can ask me anything. I'm your dad, and I'll move fucking mountains if I have to, for you." The serious expression now on Zane's face made Sandor smile. His dad sure could go from zero to one-eighty quite fast.

"It's about the girl I'm dating."

Zane returned Sandor's smile. "What about her?"

"She lives with her step-dad, Petyr Baelish, and he hit her, made her bruise. I need to help her in any way I can."

"Petyr Baelish? That fucking defense lawyer? Yeah, I know him. He's a bottom feeder. He fucking laid his hands on her?"

Just thinking about that creep hurting his girl made Sandor want to chuck the beer bottle in his hands. He may not be able to kill the guy, but he sure as hell could make him pay for what he did. He just had to make sure Sansa and her family were safe.

"Yes. I need to send him a message. I just don't want any harm to come to Sansa or her family."

Zane steepled his hands in front of him. He looked to be pondering something, and hopefully, it meant Sandor would be able to get Sansa the hell away from Petyr.

"I'm not going to jeopardize you getting into trouble. I can handle things."

Sandor stood to his feet, knocking the chair on the ground in his haste. He placed his palms down on the table, shaking his head.

"I need to be the one to take Petyr down."

"If you get involved, there's a chance you'll get into trouble, and I'm not about to sit here and allow that. I just got you back. I promise I can take care of your problem with Petyr while also keeping Sansa and her family safe."

Sandor let out a sigh, dropping his head, and understood that Zane was right. Sandor couldn't risk going to jail or even worse, prison, for a crime that would keep him away from everyone he loved. He couldn't imagine not being able to watch Anne continue to grow up. He would hate himself if he missed her graduating from college or medical school. He didn't want to think about never knowing what could have been between him and Sansa. There was too much at risk.

Still, he was an Enforcer now. He would eventually have to get his hands dirty anyways.

"I'm an Enforcer. Doesn't that mean I'm the one who is going to handle people if they fuck up?"

"As an Enforcer, you will make certain that all members follow the club laws and rules. You will be the one to protect all patch holders and the club's reputation too. If combat does occur, yes, you will assist with that as well, but that is for the club. This is personal, and when you get too involved, it gets you fired up, and you lose sight of reason. I never allow any club member to handle a problem if it's personal. Other members of the club will handle it. So, listen to me when I say, I'm going to take care of Petyr, and you will just have to take a backseat to it all. You understand?"

Zane was right. Sandor was too invested, and it would surely create a problem if he didn't follow orders. If he decided to take matters into his own hands, the whole thing would get messy, and who knows what would happen to him then.

"I understand."

"Good. Also, when you get home tonight, start packing essentials. You and Anne are coming to live with me now. I'll figure out how to adopt her, and we'll take a look at your birth certificate to see if it’s Kurt's name on it or mine."

"It can't be that easy," Sandor said with a look of shock on his face.

"It won't be easy, but I have adequate living space for you two. Elaine has become attached to Anne. She can live in the house with us. You're a growing boy, so you deserve your own space. I have a backhouse you can stay in. It has a kitchen and bathroom."

"Zane, I don't know what to say."

Zane moved around the table, placing both his hands on Sandor's shoulders. "I want you to say yes, but if it's too much to handle at this point in time, I won't pressure you."

"Are you sure?"

Zane let out a boisterous laugh. "You're my son, and Anne is a good girl. I want you two to be somewhere you can feel loved and safe. I can provide that for both of you."

"I should talk to her first."

"That only seems fair," Zane agreed. "We'll give it the night, and you can call me tomorrow to let me know your guys' decision. Does that work?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good." Zane smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness to it.

"Is something wrong?"

"I was going to say Tormund can take you home, but I don't want you to go. I just found you, and I'm scared that if you leave, then I might not see you again."

Sandor tugged Zane into a hug, holding tight to him. "I'm not going anywhere, dad. I promise."

"Me either, son…me either."

∞

Sandor and Anne lay side by side.

Sandor had told her the truth about everything from Kurt not being his real dad, to how he received his scar from Gregor to the fact that Zane was his birth father. He told her about Zane wanting them to live with him, and once he was done, they had both gone silent, laying there unmoving.

"You're my half-brother?" Anne broke the silence after fifteen minutes had passed.

Sandor saw the tears at the corners of her eyes, seconds away from spilling over. He didn't hesitate in reaching out, cradling her jaw, and wiped away the first fallen tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm always going to be your brother, Anne. Nothing has changed in that regard."

Her bottom lip quivered, more tears spilling down her face. "You love me, just the same?"

Sandor couldn't handle seeing her so devastated. It broke his heart. "You're my baby sister, and I will always love you more than the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky. I could never live this life without you in it, Anne. Don't ever forget that."

Anne broke down into sobs, and Sandor wasted no time in dragging her into his arms. He would always be her big brother, her protector, and the one who would do anything to ensure she lived the best life possible.

"I think we should move in with Zane," she whispered.

"Okay," he murmured, feeling his eyes growing heavy. He was so tired, and there was still a lot about to happen in the coming days. He would need his rest, and to make sure that he ate properly to avoid keeling over again.

Anne began singing a song, one that their mom used to sing to them almost every night before bed. It had always brought him peace when he was a little kid, especially after he had been injured. Hearing Anne sing it in a voice so similar, reminded him that his mom would always be with him. He didn't have to be afraid of what was to come. As long as the people he loved were taken care of, then that was all that mattered.

With a smile on his face, Sandor drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	24. Magnetic Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update this!  
> I have an essay due on Thursday, and it was kicking my ass.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter <3
> 
> Much love!

_**You just keep me coming back** _  
_**Something about how opposites attract**_

_**'Cause I'm drawn to your core like a precious metal** _  
_**And you balance me out** _

Sandor walked into the living room, his and Anne's bags already packed. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Dad, we're going to be heading out soon," Sandor murmured, staring at the ground.

"I'm not your dad. You don't have to call me that anymore. Zane's your daddy now."

Sandor swallowed harshly. He had told Kurt first thing in the morning that he and Anne were going to start living elsewhere. Kurt didn't seem to care all that much; he simply nodded and continued to drink his beer, watching his football game. It was nearly noon now, and Tormund would be there to pick them in no less than ten minutes.

"I just want to say thank you for giving me a place to stay."

Kurt let out a scoff, shaking his head. His hand clenched around his beer can, peering over his shoulder to look at Sandor.

"I did you no favors, kid. You don't have to thank me for anything."

"You could have kicked me to the curb after my mom died. You didn't, though."

Kurt's eyes softened to the point it scared Sandor. He had never seen such an expression on his face. It was almost affectionate, and Sandor could actually believe the man did care somewhat about him.

Kurt stood to his feet, stumbling slightly as the beer can fell to the floor, and he walked up to Sandor. Hazy blue eyes wandered over his face. "Did you know you have your mom's smile?"

Sandor's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"On the rare occasion that I would catch you smiling, it always reminded me of her. It made me realize that she would never truly be gone. Anne's her twin, and you're definitely her son," he sighed, his eyes drifted off to the side, before meeting Sandor's again. "You guys will be better off without me."

He then walked into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He didn't come out, not even when Anne knocked on the door to say goodbye. When he didn't answer, she merely kept her head held high until she saw Sandor and crumbled into his arms. He held her while she cried softly. They both still had love for the man that raised them, but they knew he would never be capable of giving them a good life. 

Tormund picked them up, and once everything was loaded in the truck, Sandor and Anne gave their old home one last look goodbye. Sandor wouldn't miss it all that much. It had never been much of a home. He helped Anne into the truck and got into the passenger seat next to Tormund. He was ready to turn over a new leaf in the hopes that it would be a better life for him and Anne.

∞

Upon arrival, Anne was ushered to her new room by Elaine, allowing Zane to show Sandor to where he would be living.

"I cleaned it up for you. Tormund and Bronn helped me out by getting you a king-sized bed. I hope you like red," Zane said with a knowing smirk.

Sandor chuckled, rolling his eyes at what Zane was implying. "Red is a nice color."

Zane clasped his shoulder. "Sure is. Gendry designed some artwork, and we hung it on the walls to give the room some life."

"You guys really didn't have to do all this for me."

"Nonsense. They were all more than happy to help out."

Sandor would have to get around to thanking them all once he settled into the new place. They approached a backhouse that almost resembled a cottage. It was painted all grey with white shudders. Sandor eyed Zane, raising his brow at him.

"What? You don't like it?" His tone teasing.

"It's the best thing I've ever seen," Sandor grinned, being completely honest.

"Good, because this is all you're getting." He winked at Sandor, directing him inside.

He walked inside to see the small living room off to the right, painted white with abstract art upon the walls. There was a black leather couch across from a plasma television. Sandor noticed the game consoles sitting on a TV stand with an array of video games.

"I figured any teenage boy would want to play video games from time to time."

"I've never played before. I'll probably suck."

Zane patted his back. "Gendry is an avid gamer. I'm sure he'll help you out."

"Thanks," Sandor murmured. He followed Zane past the bathroom that was double the size of his last one. Plus, he wouldn't have to share it with Anne. He bet she was happy about that.

The kitchen was spacious, everything he needed to cook at his disposal. The refrigerator was stocked with a variety of foods, and the freezer had enough chicken to keep him fed for a month. He didn't miss the beer that somebody had supplied him with. He wouldn't be complaining about that anytime soon.

Zane opened the door to a room with a big smile upon his face. Sandor walked past him, taking a step back to take in everything around him. His walls were painted a slate grey color, the art hanging on the walls an array of dragons, and other mythical creatures. His bed had a deep red comforter, black pillows offsetting the red. The bed was so massive that he could easily fit two of himself upon it.

There was a nightstand to the left of the bed with an alarm clock and lamp. His dresser was a cherry wood color, and a television hung over it, allowing him to watch TV in bed. He turned to Zane, and couldn't help dragging him into a hug.

Zane chuckled, patting Sandor's back. "I'm guessing you like it."

"I love it. Thanks," Sandor said, pulling back and clearing his throat. He had never been the most affectionate guy in the world. But he was grateful for everything that had been given to him, and he couldn't stop expressing it.

"Well, I'll leave you to get situated. Elaine is making lunch. I'll come to grab you when it's ready."

"Thanks again, for everything Zane."

"Don't mention it, son." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sandor dropped the one bag he brought with him on the ground and fell back on the bed. He couldn't believe that all this was happening so fast for him. He could finally take advantage of sleeping at night, knowing Anne was taken care of and safe. He would be able to give her the future he had always intended for her. She would be able to live out her dreams, and he could maybe go to college too. He didn't know if that's what he wanted just yet, but still, the option was on the table for him.

Sandor rolled onto his side, getting a better look at the red comforter. It was soft and would feel like a cloud on him at night. The color made him think of Sansa.

They hadn't talked since yesterday morning.

He missed her and didn't want to argue anymore. He would let his dad handle Petyr.

He just wanted to hold her and feel her warmth pressed against him. He had a place now. She could come over for dinner, play games with him, or spend time cuddling and talking about anything and everything. Of course, he wanted to go all the way with her, but he was content with just spending time with her until she was ready to take that step.

Just thinking about sex with Sansa had his anxiety spiking. He didn't want to make a complete fool of himself if it did ever happen. He was sure he wouldn't even be able to hold out more than five minutes. The thought of that embarrassment made him that much more scared to have sex.

He groaned, sliding both hands over his face, trying to push the thought of it out of his mind. If the timing were right, then it would happen, but first, he needed to straighten things out with her.

∞

Sansa stood at her locker, putting her books away. She was about to shut the locker when her skin prickled as she felt someone sidle up beside her.

To her dismay, it was Kathy, grinning manically down at her. "You are shit at make-up, Sansa."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Is there something you wanted?" She slammed the locker shut, reveling in the way Kathy startled slightly.

"Did Sandor do that to you? Or is it a kinky sex thing between you two? You like it when he roughs you up?" Kathy was all bark and no bite. Sansa knew this, but it still aggravated her that the bitch thought so lowly of Sandor. Sandor was the last person that would ever hurt her.

"I'm sure you would like to know."

"You just willingly open your legs for that guy? I'm surprised he hasn't broken you yet," she scoffed, sneering at Sansa.

"I guess he just knows what foreplay is, makes sure I'm nice and ready, but I'm guessing Harry doesn't do that for you."

Kathy's lips pursed, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You're a whore."

"It takes one to know one," Sansa spat and wasted no more time in talking to Kathy. She shoved past her and hurried to class before she was late once again.

She hated that Kathy even had to bother her in the first place about Sandor. It was no one's business but theirs if they were dating or not or what occurred behind closed doors. When she and Sandor did inevitably have sex, she knew he would make sure she was sufficiently wet before any kind of penetration. He would never shove in while she was dry, not like Harry had done.

She shivered at remembering the few and terrible sexual encounters she shared with that dirtbag. She would always regret handing her virginity to him, but she couldn't dwell on it, or else it would drive her mad. 

Sandor would erase those awful memories, and replace them with ones where she would actually enjoy herself during sex. That was if they made up. They hadn't talked since Saturday morning, and she hoped he wouldn't try to convince her about risking his life to get rid of Petyr.

She had managed to avoid Petyr for the rest of the weekend, but soon enough, they would cross paths again. She tried not to think too hard about it and convinced herself everything would be okay.

She slumped in her chair, looking out the window. There was a slight breeze with the way the trees swayed. The sky was bluer than usual, with fluffy clouds forming shapes. A small smile formed, realizing why Sandor was always staring out the window. The world outside was beautiful and enticing. She couldn't blame him.

She tuned everything out for the rest of the class, focusing on the birds flying in the wind, and the way the sun hit the leaves just perfectly.

∞

Sandor's leg bobbed up and down, waiting for Sansa to walk into sixth period. He didn't want to make a scene in front of the class or anything. He just needed to ask her if she would be willing to talk to him after class.

When she did walk in, it was like time stood still. Her hair fell in waves around her face, a cherry red color upon her plush lips, and the blue sunflower dress she wore made her eyes stand out that much more. She was a vision of pure beauty. Her legs went on for days, and he was desperate to feel them around his waist once again.

Right as he lifted his gaze, he met her fixed stare. She didn't waste any time in striding over to his desk, and he could thank her for that small mercy.

"Hi," she said. This close, he could see the make-up she used to cover up her bruises. He felt his blood heat, that same feeling to destroy Petyr stirring up inside him. He calmed himself, not wanting to scare her off now that she had spoken to him.

"Hi."

"Can we talk after class?"

This was going a lot easier than Sandor had anticipated. He thought she would be stubborn like she usually was, and he loved her bull-headed personality, but he wasn't in the mood to argue.

"Yes."

She nodded and went to sit at her desk without another word.

The hour-long session of class was torturous for Sandor. He couldn't stop stealing glances at her, wishing, and hoping that she'd let him kiss her. He needed some form of contact with her. He had missed her, and the small fight they had caused him to worry that would be it for them. He knew it was a silly thought, but he was new to the whole dating scene. He didn't know how things worked just yet.

The bell rang, saving him from his runaway thoughts. He noticed that Sansa made no moves to leave, allowing for the rest of the students to file out of the classroom. He waited patiently until the last person was gone, and clambered to his feet in a heartbeat.

Sansa-like, the graceful bird she was- stood up and smoothed down her dress before facing him.

"I don't want to fight anymore," he blurted before she could say anything.

Her brow quirked up. "Is that what we were doing? Fighting?"

He shook his head, giving a half shrug. "I don't know. It sure felt like it. We didn't exactly end on a good note."

"You put a hole in your wall."

"You don't know that," he grumbled.

She laughed softly. "I heard it Sandor. I just thought you needed time to calm down."

He scoffed bitterly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "How was I supposed to remain calm after what you told me?"

She cast her eyes off to the side. "I was scared. I needed someone to talk to."

"And you thought telling me about your step-dad hitting you would not make me livid? That bastard deserves to rot for daring to lay a hand on you," he spat.

He was growing agitated, and she seemed to sense that, steering the conversation elsewhere.

"Are you hungry? We could go somewhere and talk more privately."

Sandor sighed. "I can't. Zane is going to be picking me up in a bit."

He immediately hated the flash of sadness that crossed her face.

He moved closer to her, sliding his hand to the side of her neck. She peered up at him through long eyelashes, the makeup unable to hide the truth that lay beneath. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, smearing her lipstick. She didn't seem to care, her breath coming out in short little bursts.

"I want to talk more about all of this, but all I need to know is that we're good. I don't want us to fight anymore, little bird. It fucks me up."

Her hand came up, clutching the back of his hand. Her lips tilted into a rueful smile. "We're good, Sandor."

He swallowed through the lump that had formed in his throat. "You're my girl, okay?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and he was glad to see the sadness leave them momentarily. Her lips parted, drawing his attention to her mouth. "Okay."

His other hand came up to cradle the opposite side of her neck, using his thumbs underneath her chin to tilt her head back. He groaned, seeing her pupils dilating.

He dipped down, muttering his next words against her lips. "Tell me you're my girl, Sansa."

Her breath hitched, her other hand grasping onto his wrist. "I'm your girl, Sandor, _always_."

Their lips crashed together, and it was everything Sandor needed to feel complete again. He had missed being this close to her. If it were up to him, they would have hundreds upon hundreds of kisses such as this. Her tongue thrust into his mouth, and he met it with as much enthusiasm as she possessed. It was a messy exchange done in a classroom where anyone could walk in and see them in such a predicament. He couldn't find it in him to care.

Sandor shoved her onto a desk, his hands slipping into her hair, giving the thick strands a harsh tug. She hissed, biting hard on his bottom lip in retaliation. He chuckled a deep, growly sound and tugged her head back, trailing heated kisses down her neck. He nipped at her collarbone, sucking a bruising kiss into the pale skin where her neck and shoulder met.

His phone started ringing in his pocket, starling both of them. He practically jumped off of her, knocking into the desk behind him. She sat atop her desk, her dress hiked up revealing way too much skin. She panted, her chest rising and falling hard as she gazed at him with a look of awe. He pressed his palm against his hard-on; a full-on shudder rolled through him at the subtle touch. He released a harsh breath, moving back in between Sansa's legs. She shivered at the touch of his hand upon her thigh.

He yanked his phone out of his back pocket and answered it. "Hello?"

He traced his fingertips over the freckles that were scattered over her porcelain skin. He knew how pretty she was between her thighs, and if he were lucky, he'd be able to taste her sweet cunt sooner than later.

"Hey son, I'm outside. Were you ready to go?"

Sandor should have known it'd be his dad. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed, too absorbed with stealing Sansa's breath.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

"No worries. See you in a bit."

They hung up, and Sandor shoved his phone back into his pocket. He grabbed Sansa's face, planting a lingering kiss upon her lips. When he pulled back, an affectionate smile was on her face.

"I got to go, but I'll call you tonight, okay?"

"Sounds good."

He pressed his forehead against hers, hating that she had to go back to where that creepy bastard lived.

"Be safe."

"I will."

He pulled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and patted her thigh.

"See you soon, little bird."

She nodded and gave him a small wave. He was glad that she didn't seem as distressed or sad.

Still, he felt like utter shit leaving her behind, but he had to. She was a smart girl, and he knew she would stay away from Petyr. He had to trust Zane, and the crew that things would be taken care of sooner rather than later; for Sansa's sake, and his too.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	25. Come What May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I apologize for the slowing down of my updates, but I'm back in school.  
> I appreciate all the comments I've received! They seriously brighten my day <3
> 
> Also, I just want to say I'm a tad on the evil side with the way I ended this chapter. Sorryyyy.
> 
> Much love <3

_**Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place** _

_**Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace** _

_**Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste** _

_**It all revolves around you** _

It didn't take much effort for Sandor to pass his written test, and Zane had managed to get him straight into the driving course. It usually took two days to complete the driving portion, but Sandor was able to complete it in a few hours.

He didn't have to think too hard on why he had earned his motorcycle license so quickly. Zane had seemed to know the guy working at the DMV. Sandor wasn't offended, though. It wasn't hard at all, getting accustomed to the motorcycle. He figured it was ingrained in his blood, knowing how to ride a bike with ease.

It was about seven when they finished, and after Zane took him for a quick dinner, they returned home. Sandor went straight to his bike. He had used the one they gave him at the DMV; it was a nice bike, but nowhere compared to the beauty before him.

He carefully threw his leg over the bike, gripping the handle tight as he settled himself on the machine beneath him. Zane had talked his ear off about being careful and aware of his surroundings. He also swore if he ever caught Sandor without a helmet, he'd regret the day he was born.

Sandor didn't take the warning lightly and had quickly complied. Zane had even gone through the lengths to get him not just one helmet, but two. Sandor had been confused, but the wink Zane gave him suggested that it was meant for somebody else.

Sandor hadn't been able to shake Sansa off his mind. He couldn't bear the thought she was at home with the man that had dared to lay hands on her. He had a place now; she could always stay with him. He didn't think Zane or Elaine would mind if she stayed with him until Petyr was officially out of the picture.

Once the idea had sprung inside his head, he practically leaped off his bike and rushed over to Zane's house. He knocked on the door, waiting patiently for someone to answer it.

Elaine answered the door and let out a soft laugh. "Oh, Sandor, you don't have to knock. We gave you a key."

"I just didn't want to intrude," he said shyly.

"Well, come on in then, Anne will be glad to see you. Her and Zane are in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Sandor said, walking inside and heading straight to the kitchen.

Anne lit up when she saw him. He was happy that he could still bring such a smile to her face.

"I heard you got your motorcycle license today. Are you excited?" Anne asked. She had a couple of papers in front of her, and he figured it was homework.

"Yeah, it's going to be nice to have my own means of transportation."

"I'm working on getting you a car too, son. You'll need something else just in case," Zane said, setting his book down.

Zane had already done so much for him. He would feel bad if he accepted anything else from him. "You don't have to do that. The bike is just fine with me."

"I'm sure it is, but a car is nice to have. Trust me." He winked, and Sandor didn't miss the way Elaine rolled her eyes as she moved over to place a dish into the sink.

Sandor didn't know what else to say to that. He decided he'd just spit out what he wanted more than a car. "I wanted to know if it would be okay if Sansa stayed with me for the time being." He left out the details due to Anne being present.

"I don't see the problem with that, do you, Elaine?"

Elaine came up behind Zane, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and smiled at Sandor. "Not at all."

"Sandor, as much as we both appreciate you coming to ask us about matters such as these, you are about to be eighteen, soon, right?"

"Uh, yeah, in about a week," Sandor murmured, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You don't have to ask us if you want your girl to stay with you. You're old enough to make your own decisions."

Sandor rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to assuage his nervous energy. "I don't want you guys to think I'm taking advantage of your kindness."

Zane let out a boisterous laugh. "You are my son, Sandor. You're not taking advantage of anything."

Sandor could only nod and thank them. He pressed a quick kiss to Anne's forehead, avoiding mussing up her hair so she wouldn't cut off his hand. Her lips quirked up at the sides, but she didn't lift her head. Sandor wished them all a good night, and took his phone out, dialing Sansa's phone number.

∞

Sansa sat at the dinner table, picking at the salad upon her plate. She had been able to avoid her family for the most part over the weekend, but dinners throughout the week were mandatory. She had caked on the makeup to ensure the bruise wouldn't be visibly seen. Kathy and Sandor had seemed to notice right away, and she couldn't afford for her mom or siblings to see the mess that Petyr had created.

She kept her head down, hardly able to eat anything before her. Petyr was going on and on about somebody at work that he wasn't fond of, and everyone at the table had the good decency to pretend as if they cared. 

Arya rolled her eyes at the notion that Petyr would get the guy fired if he didn't shape up. She cast her steely gaze over to Sansa, and stuck her tongue out, putting her finger to it. Sansa stifled a laugh at the silly expression Arya had made. Petyr cut his cold gaze between the two of them. Sansa immediately stood down, but Arya had never been the type to back down from anything or anyone.

"As much as I'd like to hear about this guy, Petyr, I'd rather much enjoy my dinner in peace, and talk about a lighter topic. Don't you think?" Arya said in a sugary sweet voice that held underlying ice to it.

Petyr cut into his steak a little too hard and scraped the plate, causing it to emit an awful noise. It was nearly as bad as nails against a chalkboard. Rickon slammed his hands over his ears and glared at Petyr.

"I think that if I want to talk shit about somebody I work with, then I'm entitled to that due to the fact that I'm the man of this household."

Arya scoffed, dropping her knife and fork, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think you're the man of this household?"

"I'm the one that pays the bills, right? I pay for your fancy phone and the food currently on your plate."

Arya's eyes narrowed. "So, because you have money that declares you as a man? Do you know who a man was? My father."

The room went deadly silent, and the tension was overwhelming to the point Sansa felt like she couldn't breathe. Petyr slowly rose from his seat and stared at Arya with daggers in his gaze.

"Your father is dead, and that's the way he shall stay."

Arya rose to her feet. "We are our father's children, and you are just a lowly piece of shit that my mom decided to marry under the pretenses that you were a good man. I know your true colors. You can't hide them from me," she spat, her eyes landing directly on Sansa. It was in Arya's knowing gaze that Sansa could tell that the bruises upon her face had not gone unnoticed by her younger sister.

"Enough of this," Catelyn whispered weakly.

"You're not our father," Robb snapped, a hateful look in his gaze. "And you never will be."

"I may not be your fucking father, but I sure as hell can kick your ass out on the streets. You're not a teenager anymore, Robb, remember that" Petyr threatened, spit landing on the table. Robb was on his feet about to yell something when Sansa’s ringtone interrupted him.

It was loud enough to startle everyone at the table. Petyr banged his hands on the table and stared at her. She shrunk under his harsh gaze and glanced over at her mom, who stared at Petyr with wide eyes. She must have finally realized the man she married was not the saint she thought him to be.

Sansa's phone kept incessantly blaring in the room. "Are you going to answer that?" Petyr icily asked.

With quivering hands, Sansa pulled her phone out of her pocket and answered it. "Hello?"

"Little bird," his husky voice came through the line and instantly calmed her. "Am I interrupting anything?"

She looked Petyr right in the eye as she responded. "Um, kind of."

"I'll be quick. Zane offered to let me stay in his guest house. The crew and I have connected, and he wants me to be close. So, I talked to him, and he said if you wanted, you'd be more than welcome to stay with me until things settle down at your place."

Everyone at the table looked at her, trying to figure out who she was talking to, and why she hadn't hung up yet.

Sansa swallowed through the bile that had set in her throat. She wanted to say yes more than anything, and tell him how happy she was that he was no longer living in the house with his abuser. Yet, she could feel the anger radiating off of Petyr, and figured she should get off the phone.

"I can't talk right now," she whispered.

"Sansa, are you in danger?"

Her eyes stayed glued to the food before her. "No."

"You're lying to me, aren't you?"

"I'll call you back."

Without another word, she disconnected the call, immediately feeling the guilt that tightened her stomach.

"Who was that, Sansa?"

"None of your business, Baelish," Arya snapped.

Petyr raised a finger towards Arya. "You keep your fucking mouth closed, little girl," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Petyr," Catelyn said, astonished.

He ignored her and fastened his full attention back to Sansa. "Well?"

"It was Sandor," Sansa confessed, balling her hands into fists under the table.

Petyr's eyes lit with raw fury, but his voice remained eerily calm. "Is that so? What did prince charming want?"

"He just wanted to talk."

"No fucking shit, Sansa. What did he want to talk about?"

Catelyn stood abruptly, causing her glass to spill over, water sinking into the fabric of the table cloth. "Go to your rooms," she said and didn't have to say it twice. All the boys were on their feet and out of the room before she could finish talking. Arya lingered, giving Sansa a look, and nodding her head to the side. It was a signal to follow her. Sansa stood, making to leave, but she didn't get far.

Petyr's hand clutched around her wrist hard enough to bruise and yanked her back.

"You let go of my daughter right this minute," Catelyn said in a deadly tone.

"What do you think you're going to do, Catelyn?" He laughed mockingly.

"If you think I won't call the cops, you're kidding yourself."

Petyr let go of Sansa and hurried to Arya's side, trying her best to hold back the flood of tears rising to the surface. Arya took Sansa's hand and led her up to her room. Arya's room was entirely different than her own. Band posters littered the walls, all bands Sansa was not familiar with. Arya liked Metal, and Rock, it wasn't Sansa's style.

Arya tore her out of her thoughts. "What the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw the bruises the other day. I tried to talk to you and ask what happened, but you avoided me."

"It's not a big deal, Arya. I'm fine now."

"Don't bullshit me. Petyr hit you, didn't he?"

Sansa took in a deep breath and released it on a shaky exhale. "I may have antagonized him. It didn't end well for me."

"I'll kill him," Arya said through her teeth.

"I'm getting tired of everybody resorting to murder," Sansa sighed.

"You told Sandor?"

"Yes, and he had a similar plan to bury Petyr six feet under."

"He's right, though. Petyr deserves to get a taste of his own medicine." Arya slammed her fist into her palm.

"I don't think killing him will send much of a message."

"Then torture."

"Enough, Arya."

"Whatever, I'm going to check on mom, and if she hasn't already told him she's divorcing him, I'm going to ensure that she does."

Arya didn't waste a second more and raced out of the room forever the fearless hero.

Sansa thought hard on what Sandor had proposed. She'd be safe if she decided to stay with him, and wouldn't have to worry about locking her door, restless that Petyr would break-in. Sansa hadn't met his motorcycle crew, yet, and didn't want to invade their personal space. But it would be nice to fall asleep in Sandor's arms every night. He was allowing her to be safe and to meet the people he had gotten close to.

She concluded that she had to do what was right for her. Her mom had been blind to everything for so long, and Sansa wasn't sure if she would even separate from Petyr. The house was rightfully her mother's, and as much as Petyr believed he was the only breadwinner, he was wrong. Sansa's mom still worked and had her own business that brought in enough revenue for her to kick Petyr to the streets without a second thought. Sansa didn't know why her mom hadn't done it long ago. In the end, it was too late, and Sansa had to get away.

She went to her room and grabbed a backpack. She started gathering her clothes, ensuring she had enough to last her for at least a few weeks. She neatly folded her clothes and put them in the bag. She grabbed all the essential items such as her brush, face wash, forgoing most of her makeup, and put her toothbrush into a separate Ziploc bag. Once she finished packing, she dialed Sandor's phone number.

It didn't take him long to answer.

"Little bird," he breathed, sounding relieved. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she whispered. She didn't waste any more time telling him what she wanted. "Sandor, I want to stay with you."

He sounded surprised when he answered. "Really?"

She laughed softly. "Yes, really."

"I'll pick you up. Did you pack?"

"Yes, it's just one backpack."

"Wear something comfortable, no skirt or dress, and put on a thick jacket. Okay?"

Sansa's brows furrowed in confusion. She looked down at the jeans and blouse she wore. She guessed she was dressed comfortably enough. "Um, okay."

"I'll see you soon, little bird." Sansa didn't miss the excitement in his tone and felt the tension leave her body. She trusted him, and if he told her to put on a thick jacket, then she would listen.

"See you soon."

She set her phone down, going back to her closet, and found her leather jacket. She had never been one to buy many jackets, but this leather one had caught her eye. She couldn't bear to leave the store without it, and yet, she had probably worn it once. It would be getting some use tonight, she thought as she shrugged it on. She glanced in the mirror and figured she looked kind of badass.

She grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling a note to Arya. She put her backpack on and went into Arya's room, setting it on her desk. Sansa would miss seeing her little sister every day, but she knew this was all for the best. Arya would understand.

Sansa crept down the stairs, hearing the three arguing in the kitchen. She knew somewhere deep inside her that her mom and Arya would be fine. Petyr only had some twisted fantasy when it came to her, and his use of violence was to make her submit. If he laid a finger on Arya, he would lose not just the finger, but the whole arm. The thought brought a smile to Sansa's face.

She continued to sneak out, quietly closing the front door behind her. Once she was out of the house, she felt as if she could finally breathe again. She cut through the grass to the sidewalk, prepared to make a run for it if Petyr came out.

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself; the night held a slight chill to it. She wondered what Sandor was picking her up in. She guessed he was borrowing his dad's car or one of his friends. The roaring of a bike caught her attention. She lifted her gaze, seeing the telltale sign of a headlight. It came closer and closer until she could see who sat upon said bike.

Her heart began to pound in her chest as Sandor came to a stop in front of her. His combat boots came down on the gravel pavement, balancing the bike that he currently straddled between two tree trunk sized thighs. She had known he was massive, but the way the motorcycle sat beneath him only enhanced that fact. He wore a black sweatshirt, and a helmet to match.

"You like her?" Sandor asked, placing his gloved hands on his thighs.

"Is it yours?"

He snorted. "Yes, little bird, its mine. It was a gift from Zane."

"It's beautiful." Sansa wasn't sure why Zane would gift him something so expensive, but it wasn't her place to ask.

"Yes, she is." But he wasn't looking at the bike when he said it. His gaze fixed on her, and she couldn't stop the blush that spread over her skin.

"We should get out of here."

He nodded in agreement. She moved closer to the bike, unsure of how to proceed.

Sandor put his hand out towards her. She had never thought gloves could be so hot, but seeing his large hands covered by them gave her indecent thoughts. She imagined him wearing them, shoving thick fingers inside her, and feeling the cold leather. It was enough to make her tremble with need.

"Sansa?"

"Oh, um, sorry," she stammered and took his proffered hand.

He steadied her as she threw her leg over the bike and settled in behind him. She jolted when she felt how it rumbled beneath her. She was already wet because of her sudden glove kink. The way it vibrated was not helping assuage that.

"Here, put this on." Another helmet had manifested out of nowhere. The helmet was a bright red color that matched her hair. She took it from him gratefully, putting it on, and strapped the part beneath her chin. Once it was secured, she tentatively wrapped her arms around him.

She felt the rumble that went through his chest. He took her hands and gently forced her to hold on tighter. Next, he gripped her thigh, giving it a slight tug.

She instinctively scooted closer until her thighs cradled his hips, and her chest pressed against his back. She flushed that much harder at how there wasn't an inch of space between them.

"I don't want you flying off, little bird. Hang on tight."

She clutched onto him, feeling the rigid muscles of his abdomen. She pressed her cheek against his back, the motorcycle gently taking off. He navigated his way swiftly among the streets as if he had been born to ride a bike. She relished the wind that caressed her heated skin, and before she knew it, they had arrived at their destination.

The gate opened, allowing for Sandor to ride inside. He nodded at the young man who held it open. Sansa hadn't been prepared for what was inside the walls of this place. They rode past a bar off to her left, and when she looked to her right, there was another small building. Two guys sat outside in what seemed to be workout gear. She figured it was their own personal gym. She wondered if Sandor's dad owned the land because this was completely unlike anything she had seen before. They passed a two-story house and arrived at what looked like a cottage.

Sandor cut the engine, and Sansa let go of him. He helped her off the bike and kept a grip on her hand as he too maneuvered off it. Sansa was in utter awe of the place before her; it was beautiful, and she felt elated that Sandor had his own home after everything he had been through. 

Sandor led her to the front door, and let go of her hand only long enough to unlock it. His hand was back in hers a second later, leading her inside. She couldn't contain her laughter as he excitedly showed her around the place from the living room to the kitchen stocked with food. He pointed out the bathroom in case she needed it and finally directed her into what had to be his room. His bed was as massive as him, and just the kind he needed to be comfortable. She took in everything in the room and turned to Sandor, who stood proud leaning against the doorframe.

"It's awesome, isn't it?" He sounded so carefree and relaxed. Sansa loved seeing him as such versus how fearful he was before living in a home where he felt unwanted.

"Yes, it suits you."

He rubbed at the nape of his neck, a little blush settling on his cheeks. "Thanks."

"It's late. We should get some rest."

Sansa watched him swallow hard and nod his affirmation. He shut the door behind him, grasping the back of his shirt with one hand, and dragged it up and over his head. Sansa watched his stomach contract with the movement and felt a rush of heat straight to her core. She rubbed her thighs together as he turned away from her. His back a map of sinew and thick muscle and scars. He discarded his shirt into a hamper and walked to his dresser, pulling out sweat pants.

As if sensing her stare, he set his sights on her, raising his brow at her. "You can use the bathroom if you're uncomfortable changing in front of me."

"Oh, no, that's not it," she rushed out, waving her hands in front of her.

He moved over to his bed, setting his sweats down, and returned to face her. His hands went to his belt, and her eyes followed the movement. He unbuckled it with little effort and unbuttoned his pants with practiced ease. She felt a bead of sweat slip down her back as the sound of his zipper rang loud in the room. He seized his waistband, drawing her attention back to his steely gaze. He shoved his pants down, kicking them off to the side without breaking eye contact. Per usual, he wore nothing underneath, and she was met with all his glory.

His chest had started to rise and fall a little faster, his breathing quickening, and she realized hers had done the same. He tore his gaze away from hers, grabbing his sweats, and pulled them on almost angrily.

She could see that his cock had started to lengthen and strained against the thin material.

She wasn't sure if he would even fit inside her. She had never seen one as big as his, not in her anatomy class nor sex ed., not on Harry, and not in the two porn videos she had gathered the courage to watch. None could compare to the shape and size of Sandor's. The other cocks she had seen also hadn't been as pretty as his. They were shriveled, odd things, but his... it was nice to look at surprisingly enough.

Sandor got on the bed over the covers and rested his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Sansa nibbled at her lip and started divesting herself of her clothes. She set her jacket on the dresser and neatly set her converse on the ground beside it. She grabbed her backpack, taking out a tank top, and her sleep shorts. She quickly stripped down to her panties, unhooking her bra. She could never sleep in one, and she wasn't about to start now.

Once she finished dressing, she took a deep breath and got onto the bed next to Sandor. She lay on her side, and his eyes flicked to her.

"Thanks for letting me stay," she whispered as if someone would hear them.

"No worries," he muttered and moved to turn the lamp off. The light from the moon filtered in through the window and set the room aglow.

Sansa inched towards Sandor, and with a shaky hand, set it down on his stomach. The muscles instantly tightened under her touch, his broad chest puffing up and down with his harsh breaths. Her skin sizzled, and her breath skipped as his calloused hand came down atop hers.

"Sansa," her name a whisper on his lips.

"I'm glad you're no longer living with…your adoptive father," she murmured.

"He didn't put up much of a fight with me leaving. I guess he never gave a fuck whether we left or not."

"Zane seems to care."

"That's because Zane is my real father."

Sansa shot to her knees as if someone had shocked her. "What?"

Sandor absentmindedly trailed his fingers over the back of her hand up to her wrist. "Yeah, I found out on Saturday. He's planning on adopting Anne and is going to figure out if his name is on my birth certificate. It's insane, but I feel like I've known him all my life as if we never were separated. I feel that close to all the MC guys."

"This is fate! Oh my gosh, Sandor, I'm so happy for you!" Sansa was unable to contain her excitement, and before she could stop herself, she was straddling Sandor's waist. Her hands settled on either side of his face as she leaned in to press a swift kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she gasped, seeing the naked lust written all over his face.

Heat spanned the length of her body, realizing she was sitting atop him in a very provocative position. Her ass inches shy of his dick; all she had to do was slide down to settle over his cock and feel him pressing exactly where she wanted him. 

His eyes studied her face for a moment before drifting further down to her chest. He made a choked sound. Sansa chanced a glance down to see the shape of her breasts, and her nipples were protruding clearly through the material. She shoved the initial reaction to cover herself and placed both palms on his chest. She sat straighter, arching her back slightly to allow him to get his fill. His eyes hungrily danced between her face and her heaving chest.

"Sandor, I want to have sex," she confessed in a quiet voice.

He shuddered beneath her, his hands finally settling on her thighs. "Sansa, I want to, but I'll be no good at, you have to know that."

"It's okay, Sandor. Haven't you heard practice makes perfect?" she teased, winking at him, hoping that it would ease his tension.

He chuckled softly, but she could still feel the tension in his body. There was a nervous expression upon his face that she wanted to do away with.

"Sandor, I'm not going to be disappointed if that's what you're thinking."

She played with the hair on his chest, loving the way it felt between her fingers.

"I'm probably going to last a fucking minute inside of you. That's embarrassing," he grumbled, stroking her thighs up and down.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered by his ear. "Only one way to find out."

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	26. Possession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! I appreciate all the comments I have received thus far!
> 
> Much love <3

_**And I would be the one** _   
_**To hold you down** _   
_**Kiss you so hard** _   
_**I'll take your breath away** _   
_**And after I** _   
_**Wipe away the tears** _   
_**Just close your eyes dear** _

"Only one way to find out."

Sansa knew without a doubt that she wanted Sandor, and she was determined to help him see that. She straightened so she could gauge his reaction, and saw that he could hardly look her in the eyes. There was nervous energy surging all around him; sweat had beaded at his temple, a single drop sliding down the side of his unscarred cheek.

His hands gripped tighter to her thighs, and he released a shaky breath. "Sansa," he muttered, lifting his steel-colored gaze to hers.

Her heart skipped inside her chest at the vulnerable look upon his face. He seemed so much younger now lying beneath her, such a boyish expression tugging at his features. She could hardly believe she could make such a large man tremble so severely. She grasped either side of his face, feeling the sweat against her palm, and gave him the most genuine smile she possibly could.

"Sandor," she whispered and bent forward, connecting their lips.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, emitting a small noise at the back of his throat when she dragged her tongue across his bottom lip. She smiled inside her head and tugged it between her teeth, giving it a hard nip.

She earned a breathy growl in return, feeling his hand rest on the crown of her head. His fingers tightened in her hair and urged her closer, capturing her lips in a needy exchange. 

He parted her lips roughly with his tongue, causing Sansa's gut to coil with heat. She moaned indelicately into his mouth, meeting the hungry strokes of his tongue with her own. Her hands slid to his neck until they rested on his chest. She could feel his heart thrumming violently beneath her fingers. She never knew she could have such a strong effect on somebody.

She could feel the need pouring off of him with every swipe of his tongue, every soft moan he made. The noises he released only sufficed to increase her own need. She adjusted her lower half until she settled against his burgeoning erection, and gave an experimental roll of her hips. They both gasped in surprise, a few curses escaping his mouth at the contact.

One large hand clutched her waist while the other came up to cradle her jaw. She basked in his touch, in love with the way his thumb stroked her cheek so tenderly.

People looked at Sandor, and all they saw was a brute, a man incapable of affection. Sansa had thought the same at one point in time. But the moment he held her in his arms, his lips tentatively pressed against hers, she knew she had judged him unfairly. Sandor may be massive, but he was a gentle giant. Even in the moments where he started to lose control, he never got overly rough with her, and always seemed to force himself to calm down.

She could feel that self-control with the way he held her so gently as if he were scared, she was going to break. She loved that aspect about him, but she needed more before she burst into flames.

She began to roll her hips faster, sparking that frisson of heat into a full-blown inferno that started at her clit and spread into every fiber of her being.

"Oh fuck," Sandor inhaled, both hands coming down to grasp her hips.

His eyes closed, brow furrowed in the middle as she continued to rock against him. She looked down to see that she had soaked his sweats with how wet she had become. She groaned at the sight, moving harder against him.

She smoothed kisses across his jaw and felt the growl that rumbled through his robust chest. He exposed more of his neck to her, and she couldn't resist sucking a bruise into his skin. She ran her tongue along the vein that stood out with increased adrenaline, feeling his rapid pulse.

Sansa sat back, grabbing at the hem of her shirt to take it off. The movement caught Sandor's attention, and suddenly he was sitting up, helping her take off the constricting material. Sandor's mouth latched onto a nipple; one hand spanned along her back while the other gave love to her other breast. Sansa moaned, slipping her hands to the back of his head, holding him close.

Due to the new angle, his cock hit her clit perfectly over and over again. An overwhelming ache to be filled consumed her as he licked her nipple in tantalizing circles. When he lightly closed his teeth around the sensitive bud, she keened into him. He pulled her other nipple between rough, calloused fingers, and a delicious shiver ran up her spine at the touch.

She could feel herself approaching climax, but she wasn't ready. She needed him to look at her for him to understand what this moment meant to her. She placed both hands on his jaw, taking him off guard with the way he startled. He pulled back, their eyes connecting. He looked at her as if she were something precious that he couldn't believe he had managed to get. She put her forehead to his and stared into his grey orbs.

"You know you mean the world to me, right?" She asked.

Sandor sucked in a sharp breath. "Sansa, what, I," he stammered, unable to complete his sentence. She watched his mouth gape open for a moment before he snapped it shut.

She chuckled softly, understanding his trepidation. "I like you, Sandor. You're the sweetest, most caring guy I've ever met, and even after everything I did, you still treat me with respect and tenderness. I just need you to know that what you're giving me means everything to me, and I will cherish this moment for the rest of my life." 

Sandor searched her eyes, his chest puffing up and down. He remained speechless, his palm pressing into the space between her shoulders, and lower back the only sign that he acknowledged what she had said. He seemed to be trying to find the right words to say but kept coming up empty.

"You don't have to say anything," she reassured, tilting her head, so her lips grazed his.

His palms pressed more insistently into her back, nails slightly digging in. She winced, and he flexed his hands, relaxing them as he put them back to their prior spot. He rubbed at the pain he had induced, and she could feel how his hands spanned the entirety of her back. She loved how small he made her feel in his bulky arms. She knew that when he became more experienced, these same arms would cage her in and fuck her within an inch of her life.

The thought of him slamming her up against a wall made her gush with arousal.

His hand clamping down on the nape of her neck tore her out of her train of thinking. His thumb pushed into the underside of her jaw, and she swallowed hard at the look in his eyes. It was a wild look mixed with both wonderment and unfiltered lust. She watched the tendons in his neck tighten as he breathed jaggedly, nostrils flaring.

"I'd do anything for you," his gravelly voice made her core clench on nothing.

" _Anything_ ," he muttered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

They were breathing the same air now, her hand deciding to have a mind of its own as it wandered to his waistband.

"You make me burn, Sandor." Sansa slipped her hand into his sweats as she murmured the words. 

She felt the silky, warm skin of his shaft and enclosed her hand around the base of him. Her fingers could hardly touch due to his girth. She shivered at the knowledge he would most likely split her apart. There would be pain, and she would revel in that aspect because he would finally be inside her.

"Sansa, oh god," he panted, his hips giving a tentative thrust upward into her hand.

She circled the moisture that had beaded at the tip and used it to aid her strokes. His arm enveloped her lower back as his head fell forward upon her shoulder. He sucked in desperate breaths, the sound heaven to her ears. She could feel him getting close, his cock pulsing in her hand, his breathing growing shallow. She let go of him receiving a groan of protest, but he did the same, allowing her to get off the bed.

She went to her bag, tugging it open with shaky hands. She found what she was looking for, and made her way back to the bed where Sandor laid, hands covering his face, stomach rising and falling quickly.

She set the box of condoms down on the bed. She gathered her courage and pushed her shorts down to the floor. She kicked them aside and looked back up to see his full attention on her now. She smiled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before joining him again upon the mattress.

Sandor's Adam's apple bobbed with his harsh swallow, and he sat up, disposing himself of his sweats. He tossed them off to the side, eyeing the box of condoms now in her hand.

"I figured you'd need the biggest size," she said, nibbling at her bottom lip. She had bought magnum condoms soon after she had sucked him off. She had wanted to be prepared for the inevitable.

"Thanks," he grunted, licking his lips, and swallowed for the umpteenth time.

She couldn't blame him, nerves were eating at her too, and she didn't know exactly where to go from here. She fixed her gaze to the box and opened it, pulling out a strip of condoms. She tore one off, leaving the rest on the bedside table. She shuffled on her knees toward him until she was able to straddle him once more.

She opened the condom wrapper and pulled the prophylactic out, feeling the lube that coated the exterior. The last time she had sex, Harry had been the one to put the condom on with practiced ease. Now, she had no clue what she was supposed to do. Sandor's hands came down upon hers gently, and he gripped the ring around the condom bringing it to his hardened member. Together, they rolled the prophylactic down his shaft until it sat comfortably around the base of him. He pinched the tip, and she wondered how he knew how to do that.

"I looked it up on the internet," he rasped, somehow able to read her mind.

She could only nod, the confidence that she had only moments ago starting to drain out of her.

"We don't have to do this."

She locked her gaze with his and saw the way he was second-guessing himself. She could see all the fear and anxiety spiraling in his steely eyes. She shook her head, knowing she would have to be the one to make the final move.

"I want to." There was nothing more on earth that Sansa desired than to be intimate with him.

She lifted to her knees, his eyes bored into hers with an intensity that made her gut clench. She watched as his pupils dilated to the point the black absorbed the grey. He told her he would give her anything, and she would do the same in a heartbeat. Sandor could ask her to tear the moon out of the sky and bring it to him, and she'd damn well find a way to achieve the impossible.

She would spend the rest of her life, ensuring that Sandor understood that he deserved all the immeasurable things this world had to offer. She couldn't deny that she was in love with him anymore.

Sandor had brought this incredible light to her existence, and she couldn't stand the thought of it ever being snuffed out. She should have known the moment she laid eyes on him that there was no way another man could ever take his spot. She couldn't imagine being with anybody but Sandor for the rest of her time on this earth. She wanted to go on adventures with him and discover every little thing about him. She wanted to soak in every smile, every laugh, and every tear-she craved all that he would give her. 

She gripped the base of his cock, noting how it was painfully hard. He had been so patient with her, and she would give him the relief he coveted. She guided him to her wet entrance on a shaky exhale. More moisture leaked out of her, almost as if her subconscious knew that it was necessary.

Just the head of his cock felt too big as she lowered slowly onto him. Her mouth parted as her walls stretched around his invasion. It burned due to having to accommodate to the space he was filling. She closed her eyes, drawing in small gulps of air to give her the strength to take all of him.

She planted both hands on his chest, taking him inch by inch, breathing through the sharp pain that tore through her. It didn't matter that she was wetter than she had ever been before. Sandor's cock left no space within her, forcing her to stretch to the point she felt tears rising to the surface.

"Sansa, look at me, _please_ ," he begged with an apparent strain to his voice.

Sansa glanced down, seeing that only half of him was inside her. Her eyes widened, an alarm going off inside her head that there was absolutely no way he would fit.

Losing her virginity hadn't hurt nearly as bad as what was occurring now. If she didn't know any better, she would think that Harry hadn't taken her virginity. The first time hadn't hurt, the couple of times after were unpleasant because Harry didn't care about her pleasure. This pain was unique, and she couldn't quite pinpoint what was happening to her.

So lost in her thoughts, she became taken off guard by Sandor shifting under her. He managed to change their positions to where she was under him in one fell swoop. He braced himself on his elbows, keeping his weight off of her. He was still partially inside her, but he made no moves to press further. A trembling hand cupped the side of her neck, the warmth of him a small comfort.

"I'm hurting you, aren't I?" Even with his cock within her, he still behaved shyly, a flush high on his cheeks.

"I'll be okay." She shifted beneath him, bringing her knees up, and opened her legs wider, trying to ease the extreme pressure.

"Tell me what to do to make it less painful," he stumbled over his words, and it only sufficed to bring a broad smile upon her face.

His brow knitted in the middle, his head tilting to the side. "What?"

She brought her hand up, trailing over the mass of burns by his lip. He tensed at the touch but didn't pull away from her. Her heart pounded uncontrollably, the words she wanted to tell him on the tip of her tongue. She had never been the type to get into the subject of feelings, the word love hardly left her mouth, but she desperately wanted to tell Sandor how she felt about him.

The tears that had bubbled behind her eyes spilled over, and she couldn't let him see them. With a frantic attempt to save face, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him to her. He let out an oomph, his chest touching hers, and she was sure her hair smothered him. She twined her legs around him, bowing her back, and lodged his cock farther in.

"Sansa," he gasped.

She turned her head, so her lips brushed the shell of his ear. Before she could stop herself, she whispered the three words that overwhelmed her spirit, body, and mind. "I love you."

Like a toxic ivy, she cradled his hips with her thighs and dug her heels into his lower back, driving him into her with a force that made her see stars. She swore she blacked out for a moment, coming to the curses spewing out of Sandor's mouth. He searched her face frantically. He had broken free from the entrapment of her arms, his thumbs wiping at her tears.

He throbbed inside her, and the sensation brought a smile to her face. She felt full, but the sting had begun to ebb.

"Why are you fucking smiling?" He growled no heat behind his tone, and his expression more troubled than angry.

"I love you," she said again more confidently. Just saying the words had her laughing with joy. She couldn't remember a time where she felt so happy.

His hand curled into the back of her hair, bringing his mouth an inch shy from hers. "You love me?" He sounded unsure, bewildered that she could love him.

"Yes," she sighed.

His face softened, all the harshness that once consumed it replaced with awe. He gave her a half-smile that she drank in hungrily. " I love you too."

The confession rang with finality in the dark, quiet room. He kissed her deeply, her lips parting on a soft moan. He used that moment to slide his tongue into her mouth, taking charge of the kiss and explored her mouth in a slow, erotic dance. She pressed her hips up into him, and he broke the kiss on a heady groan. He raked both hands through her hair, grasping gentle handfuls, and pulled her head back. Their eyes connected in the moonlight, and she could see the fight with his self-control vanish.

He began to move slowly in and out of her, kissing her lips ever so softly. She ran her hands up his back, feeling just how badly he trembled as he pressed loving kisses across her jaw. His thrusts were measured, unhurried like she had expected them to be. He sucked a tender kiss between her shoulder and neck. She keened into him, digging her heels into his ass to spur him on. Sansa loved how gentle he could be with her, but she knew they both required so much more right now.

His thrusts increased in tempo, and she watched the emotions flashing across his face-confusion, fascination, blatant desire, and a sweet surrender that pulled his expression into one she had never seen before.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, his hand slammed down beside her head, startling her. "Sorry," he breathed. "So _fucking_ good."

His other hand remained curled in her hair, steely eyes holding her captive as he shoved into her harder and deeper. His eyes strayed to her chest, and heat spanned throughout her when she noticed her breasts jiggled with every powerful thrust. His breath came out in sharp pants as he continued to shift his eyes from her face to her chest. His hand tightened in her hair; she moaned at the sharp sting that accompanied his grip. She wouldn't dare tell him to stop, though. Not when he was fucking her so deep that she swore she could feel him in her stomach.

A look of pain crossed his face, his thrusts becoming jerky and erratic. She understood that he was riding the edge of coming, and she wanted him to get there.

She brushed her lips to the underside of his jaw, his hips stuttering.

"It's okay," she whispered, nipping at his jaw, and earned a sharp tug on her hair in return.

"I-I need to, p-please," he stuttered, his voice so low and husky it made her core tighten. He let out a strained sound at the sensation.

He buried his face into her neck and groaned into her skin, his cock hitting places inside her she didn't even know existed. A spark of tension settled low in her stomach, tightening and tightening like a rope pulled tautly. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as he continued to stroke that incredible spot within her over and over again. Blinding light flashed behind her eyes as the tension snapped, and she cried out, clawing at his back. She had never felt anything so intense in her life; her core fluttered madly around him.

"Sansa," he whimpered, giving one final deep thrust. He rung out every morsel of his pleasure, pressing into her and tantalizingly rolling his hips. He panted harshly into her neck, his body shaking as he held himself off of her with one hand.

Once his breathing calmed, he grasped the base of his cock and pulled out. She shivered as he did so; her body still hypersensitive. He deposited the condom into the waste bin, and crawled back over her, kissing up her body as he did so. He sucked a kiss into her stomach, and she giggled, smoothing her fingers through the shaggy mess atop his head. His tongue found her nipple, swirling around before giving it a gentle nip, continuing his travels upwards until his lips found hers.

He pressed a couple of kisses to her mouth and placed his forehead against hers.

"I want to do that again," he murmured.

She laughed, swatting playfully at his chest. "Not now, I don't know if I could handle you again so soon."

His lips curled into a lopsided grin. "You sure seemed like you took me just fine."

She acted offended, but couldn't hold onto the act for very long. They dissolved into a fit of laughter, and he rolled onto his back, dragging her into his side.

"So, you love me, eh?" He asked, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

She flushed and hid her face. "Yes, I do."

He chuckled softly. "I love you too, little bird."

"You better." She peeked through her fingers to meet his gaze.

"You were crying? Why?"

She had hoped he didn't notice, but not much got past Sandor. She sighed and dropped her hand back to his chest. "I just felt overwhelmed by emotion. I think I've loved you for so long that I was terrified that you wouldn't feel the same. I was scared to be rejected."

He cupped her jaw. His eyes filled with adoration. She loved how soft his expressions could be when he looked at her. "You thought I would reject you?" He shook his head. "Never."

"Prove it," she hummed.

His eyes flared with heat. "I thought you couldn't handle it so soon."

"I'll deal with it," she said with a smile and moved on top of him.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	27. Never Tear Us Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your patience! After this chapter, we'll be jumping back to the plot lol
> 
> Enjoy!

**_Don't ask me_ **  
**_What you know is true_ **  
**_Don't have to tell you_ **  
**_I love your precious heart_ **  
**_I was standing_ **  
**_You were there_ **  
**_Two worlds collided_ **  
**_And they could never tear us apart_ **

The first thing Sandor noticed when he woke up was the warmth against his side. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked down to see Sansa curled up against him. Her hand rested on his stomach, soft wisps of breath escaping her parted lips as she remained sound asleep.

He never thought in a million years he'd have a girl as pretty as Sansa sleeping in his bed. He could hardly believe she had let him inside her, and god that had been something incredible. He knew that sex would feel good whenever it happened to him, but he hadn't thought it would be so intense.

He didn't know she would be so warm, and so damn tight. He hadn't had many conversations about what it would feel like inside a woman. He didn't have the guts to look it up either. Now that he knew how it felt, he craved more, but he wouldn't pressure Sansa into sating his newfound carnal desires.

His heart stuttered, remembering the way she told him she loved him. He had only heard those words come out of his sister, and mom's mouth. The knowledge that Sansa was in love with him sparked this unbelievable warmth inside him that spread into every fiber of his being. He wanted to bask in that warmth forever, and if Sansa remained by his side, he would be able to do so.

Sandor gently rubbed her back, enjoying the softness of her skin against his calloused hands. Sansa stirred awake and leaned back to meet his gaze. Her lips curled into a radiant smile. He hadn't prepared for her to rear up and press her lips against his. He worried about morning breath for a minute, but the moment she deepened the kiss, he threw caution to the wind. When his alarm started going off, it ended the kiss. He chuckled when she gave an exasperated sigh.

He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and stopped the alarm, noting the time. They had school in about an hour.

"We should get ready for school," Sandor said, pushing the covers off him.

"We don't have to go," Sansa muttered, rolling on her side to face him.

Sandor shook his head with a smile, getting out of bed. "Yes, we do. This is our last year in high school, and I don't want us to mess that up by not going."

"One day wouldn't kill us," Sansa pouted, tossing the covers off her dramatically.

Sandor rounded the bed, standing at the front, taking in her naked form. Sansa raised her brow at the wicked smile that curled his lips. He grabbed her ankle, and effortlessly pulled her to the end of the bed. She let out a squeal as he did so. He moved in between her spread legs, his cock twitched as he took in her pink flesh, and all the pale skin on display to his hungry eyes.

"Sandor," she said breathily. He placed his hands on either side of her head and bent forward, capturing her lips in a slow kiss.

"Did you want to take a shower?" He asked against her lips.

"Only if you're joining," she murmured, her arms wrapping around his neck.

He dragged her into his arms, hoisting her off the bed with ease. Her legs came around his waist as both his arms banded around the middle of her back. Sansa trailed kisses across his jaw, sucking on his skin to the point it drove him crazy with need. He found his way to the bathroom, flicking the light on. He had been surprised to see the shower was tall and wide enough to accommodate his size. It even had sufficient space for two, and Sandor was thanking his lucky stars for that small relief.

He set Sansa on her feet, allowing him to open the glass door. He turned the water to warm and waited for it to heat up.

Once steam started to billow in the room, he motioned for Sansa to get in first. He followed her in, shutting the door behind him, and sighed once the water fell upon him.

Sandor moved out of Sansa's way so she could wet her hair. He leaned against the wall behind him, watching as droplets of water got caught on her eyelashes, and streamed down between her breasts. The sight was intoxicating, and he couldn't help it when his cock stirred to life.

Sansa opened her eyes to see him watching her rampantly.

"Could you shampoo my hair?" She nibbled on her lip. She had to know what that did to him. He wanted to turn her around and whisper terribly dirty things in her ear as he took her from behind. Instead, he simply nodded, grabbing a bottle off one of the shelves installed in the shower.

She turned, so her back faced him, and he had to shove the image he had just conjured up moments before out of his mind. He poured a small amount of shampoo into his palm, setting the bottle back where it belonged. He rubbed his hands together, settling them on the crown of her head. He massaged the liquid into her hair, earning a soft sound in return. Once he was sure every inch of her beautiful hair had been covered with the substance, he used the remainder in his hair. Sansa rinsed and moved out of the way so he could do the same.

He used to put conditioner in his hair before he cut it all off. It was starting to fill out on the sides, thankfully. He hoped that it would be back to his shoulders by the time summer rolled around. Still, he saw no point in using conditioner, but Sansa clearly did as she pushed the bottle into his hands. He smiled down at her and saw the flush that crawled up her neck to her cheeks. She hurriedly turned away from him, and he repeated the same motions that he did with the shampoo.

Once they finished with their hair, he grabbed the loofah and poured a generous amount of body wash upon it. He moved to wash his body until Sansa placed her delicate hands upon his.

"Can I?"

He swallowed harshly and nodded. She took the loofah from his hands and began to clean off both his arms. When she moved it across his chest and down his stomach, he couldn't hold back the shudder that raced through him. She avoided where he wanted to be touched the most, moving around him to wash off his back. She returned in front of him, pupils blown wide as she peered up at him. The loofah dropped from her hand, and suddenly she was wrapping it around his cock. He gasped, his body feeling like it had been electrocuted.

"Sandor, let's stay here and forget the world for a moment. Just for today."

She moved her hand up and down in continuous, tantalizing motions. Sandor felt his mind clouding with lust.

"Sansa, we can't."

"Yes, we can. Just today, that's all I'm asking for. We'll never miss a day of school again unless if we're sick or unable to due to other unforeseen circumstances. _Please_ , Sandor."

He didn't have the strength to deny Sansa. Not when she was pleading and looking at him with those big blue eyes full of hope. He felt his resolve vanish, and he knew he was going to give her whatever she wanted.

He curled his hand into the back of her hair and tightened his fist. He lowered, so his lips were inches from hers. "You want to get fucked all day, is that it, Sansa? Is that what you want?"

Her hand faltered around his cock. " _Yes_ ," she whispered.

He placed his hand atop hers and urged her to let go. She reluctantly gave into him. "I'm going to wash off, and I'll meet you in the room. I want you on your hands and knees on the bed when I get there. I'm going to take you so hard, Sansa. I'm going to show you what happens to little girls that don't want to go to school."

Sansa's eyes widened, but instead of telling him to fuck off as she should have, she nodded and got out of the shower. She grabbed a towel and was out of the room before he could change his mind about what he had just said. He didn't even know where those words had come from. He didn't even think he'd be any good at the whole dirty talk thing. Yet, Sansa seemed to enjoy his filthy mouth all the same.

He got rid of the soap still clinging to his body and turned the water off. He used the squeegee left in the shower to clean off the glass. Once he finished, he toweled off and returned to the room. He stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. Last night he hadn't been able to see much, but in the light of day, he was able to appreciate Sansa's every curve. Her ass had freckles adorning it; the spectacle made him groan. His eyes trailed down to see where soft pale flesh gave way to pink that begged for him to do what he had promised.

Sansa waited patiently for him to make his move. As he drew closer to her, he could see the way her body trembled. He moved to the edge of the bed and heard her nervous exhale of breath.

"If you don't want me to do it like this, I won't," he murmured. He gently cupped her hip, giving it a gentle squeeze so she knew she could change her mind, and he would stop.

"I want to. I'm just scared," she confessed in a small voice.

Sandor pushed her wet hair off her back, bending over her to trail soft kisses down her spine, stopping at the curve of her ass.

"I don't want you to be scared. I want you to enjoy this, and if this is something that won't please you, I won't do it."

He stood back to his full height, rubbing reassuring circles into the small of her back.

"I want you to, just go slow."

Sandor pressed a swift kiss to her shoulder and grabbed a condom from her bag. He tore it open, rolling it over his cock, and kneeled on the bed behind her. He guided her hips to a better angle and tenderly pressed his palm between her shoulder blades so that her chest lay against the bed. She fisted the bedsheets, her entire body blushing at the position he had put her in.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice strained.

She nodded, burying her face into the sheets. He slid his fingers between her folds, finding she was wet, but not enough. He would need to prepare her better if he was going to take her like this. He wrapped his hand around her front, smoothing over her stomach, shifting through her curls until he found her clit. She gasped, pressing back against him. He grasped her waist to keep her still and began to circle the spot that always had her keening for him. He arched over her, pressing kisses to her shoulder, neck, and down her back. He reveled in the moans he drew out of her.

He ground against her ass, wanting to be inside her tight, warmth. He moved the hand at her waist to cup her breast, earning another loud moan as he began to massage the soft weight. She was starting to press back against his cock, and it sufficed to drive him mad with need. He tore his hand away from her breast and brought it down to his cock. He guided it to her entrance, her wetness coating him immediately. His body shook as he began to push inside her welcoming heat. The way she felt in this position was overwhelming, and he struggled with his self-control.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, seizing her hips with both hands, and slid into her until he bottomed out on a low groan. Sansa let out a choked sound and grappled for purchase on the bed.

He withdrew from her, seeing her wetness coating his cock. He groaned and thrust into her hard, her muscles clutching him in a vice grip. She held the sheets so tight her knuckles had bled into white, and he knew he was doing this all wrong. She had told him to go slow.

"I'm sorry, god, I'm sorry. I should stop. I'm losing control," he panted, screwing his eyes shut. He halted his movements within her and sucked in much-needed oxygen.

"Don't stop," she whimpered, shifting beneath him.

"If I'm hurting you-"

"Sandor, please, you're not hurting me. Keep going!" Her shout kicked him back into action, and he began to find a cadence that would surely have him coming sooner than later.

He slid his hands to her waist, snapping his hips forward over and over again, feeling the way she began to push back into his every thrust. He was losing himself inside of her, a familiar pressure starting to build in his cock, and he knew he was too close to that inevitable end.

He slowed his pace, rolling his hips into her to stop the fire from completely consuming him. He hunched over her, placing both hands atop hers, threading their fingers together, and pressed loving kisses to her neck. She moaned and began to move her hips so that she was riding his dick from this position.

"Fuck, yes, move those cute little hips for me, Sansa."

She found a rhythm that made him speechless; he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, and let the feeling of her consume him. She let out a frustrated sound moments later, and he knew that she was having trouble finding the release she craved. He reared back, gripping a handful of her flame-colored hair, and dragged her so that her back was pressed against his chest. His other hand found her clit, and he began to thrust wildly up into her. He knew the movement of his fingers was probably too rough, and his rhythm had gone out the window, but he desperately hoped she would still get there with him.

She cried out his name, and that was all he needed to chase his climax. He thrust until he spilled into the condom on a husky growl. They both breathed hard. He splayed his hand flat on her stomach and held her to him, not wanting to leave her body just yet. Once he caught his breath, he turned Sansa's face towards his and pressed a sweet kiss to her rosy lips.

He pressed his lips to her temple. "God, I fucking love you."

She giggled and dug her nails slightly into his thigh. He jolted and took it as a hint to move off her. He disposed of the condom and lay on the bed beside her.

"We should eat."

"Much agreed," Sansa sighed contently, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.

He caught her wrist and pressed a kiss to the inside of it. "You relax, and I'll make us some eggs, bacon, and toast."

“You’re a saint,” she said with a tender smile.

He returned it and climbed off the bed. He pulled on a pair of sweats, and grabbed his phone as he made his way out of the room. He decided he should give his dad the heads up that they would be staying home today. He dialed his phone number and didn't have to wait long for him to answer.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey, so, Sansa and I are going to stay home just for today. I hope that's okay with you."

Zane chuckled. "You got laid, didn't you?"

Sandor reddened from head to toe. He knew his dad couldn't see his face, but he was still embarrassed. "Um, I mean, yeah," he sighed, figuring there was no point in lying.

"Good for you, kid. But don't make this a habit in ditching school. You need to graduate."

"I won't. I promise."

"I guess it's not the worst thing that you're staying home today. My lawyer is going to stop by around noon. I discussed what happened with Petyr, and she said there was a legal way to be rid of him."

Sandor leaned against the kitchen counter. "Petyr is a lawyer, and he knows people."

"My lawyer is not the type to be messed with. She has taken down more troublesome people than Petyr. I'm sure he knows her very well. He's lost a fair amount of cases due to her. Trust me. I believe she can make Petyr see reason. I'd like for you and Sansa to meet her."

Sandor had thought the only way to get rid of Petyr would be to go through violent means. If there was a way to be rid of him legally, then there was no way he could say no. "I'll let Sansa know. If she's comfortable with it, we'll be there around noon."

"Sounds good, son. I'll hopefully see you then."

"See you then, dad."

"Wait, you are using condoms, right? No babies for you until you're older."

He groaned. "Yes, we're using protection."

Zane laughed. "Good."

"Bye, Dad," Sandor said, rolling his eyes, but a smile had formed on his face.

"Bye, son."

They hung up, and Sandor swore he was going to melt into the floor due to how embarrassed he felt. He was sure the news would spread like wildfire, and he would hear it from the guys soon enough.

He put the thought of everyone knowing he had finally lost his virginity out of his head, and whipped up breakfast for Sansa and him. He neatly arranged everything on two plates, and headed back upstairs where Sansa sat clothed, and brushing her hair. She put her brush down, grabbing a blanket, and set it on the floor. He had a perfectly good dining table, but it felt nice to sit on the floor across from one another. They ate in relative silence, and once they finished, he set the dishes off to the side.

"So, my dad has a lawyer, and she is going to be coming over around noon. She's known to win a lot of cases, and he thinks she could help you."

Sansa brought her knees to her chest and settled her chin atop them. "Petyr is a lawyer. There is no way she could bring him down."

"We should at least give her a chance. Maybe she could help your mom get the house, and Petyr will have to grovel someplace else."

"You think Petyr will give everything up so easily?" She shook her head. "He won't go down without a fight."

"If he doesn't want to see reason, then I'll make him."

Sansa lifted her gaze and gave him a small smile. "Sandor, not everything can be dealt with through violent means."

Sandor shuffled closer to her, cradling her jaw in his large hands. "I won't let this bastard dig his claws into you and never let go. I will do everything in my power to make that bastard see that you will never belong to him."

"Because I'm yours?"

He sighed. "You're not something to possess, Sansa. You are not an object. You are made of flesh and blood just like the rest of us, and that means you do not belong to anyone. You're my girl, but that doesn't mean you're mine."

"What if I want to be yours? What if I want you to possess my body, mind, and soul?"

His heart thundered, and his stomach clenched as he watched her lick her lips. "Sansa," he whispered.

"I want you to be mine, Sandor. Does that make me a terrible person?"

"I am yours," he breathed. "I always have been, and I always will be."

She clutched the back of his head, dragging his mouth to hers. He already knew where this was headed. He gave in to her passion and lost himself once again in all that Sansa had to offer.

☼

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3


	28. This Must Be The Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3

**_Home, is where I want to be_ **   
**_But I guess I'm already there_ **   
**_I come home, she lifted up her wings_ **   
**_I guess that this must be the place_ **

Sansa lay breathless next to Sandor on the bedroom floor, both staring at the ceiling. She had never thought she would become a nymphomaniac, but Sandor was slowly turning her into one. She knew she was positively exhausted, and yet, something in her was telling her to get him hard again, and ride him till kingdom come. She shouldn't especially because it was almost noon, and they had to meet with Zane's lawyer. Still, she couldn't get enough of Sandor, and the intimacy they shared only made her feel that much closer to him.

For someone who was only a virgin the night before, Sandor sure knew how to take cues and learned quickly what she wanted of him. He had managed to get her off every single time he had been inside her. A feat that she didn't think possible after her horrid experiences with Harry. Sandor was on the larger side and stroked a spot inside her that made her feel like she was going to wet herself. It was a strange sensation, but one that always led her to a climax so intense it made her see white behind her eyes.

She loved seeing the expressions that claimed Sandor's features in the throes of passion. His brow would furrow in at the middle, and his lips would part as a look of confusion mixed with pure bliss formed upon his face. Just those expressions could lead her to climax, and when she did, he always looked so shocked as she clenched around him. She had burned those images of him into her mind. They were ones she could live off forever.

Sandor groaned as he got to his feet, striding over to his dresser, giving her a perfect view of his muscular ass. He grabbed a pair of denim jeans, forgoing boxers, and pulled them on. A black shirt followed, and he walked back over to her. He chuckled lightly and helped her off the ground pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Get ready pretty girl. We have to meet up with my dad in ten."

She smiled lazily. "I think you've ruined me, Sandor."

His brow rose, and he cocked his head to the side in the most adorable way that it tugged at her heartstrings. "What?"

"In the best possible way, I mean."

"Why?"

She played with the collar of his shirt, wanting to rip his clothes off once more and have her way with him. She fought that instinct with all the strength she possessed. "I just feel like I can't get enough of you. Your cock has ruined me, and I need more."

A flush started at the collar of his shirt and spanned up to his cheeks. She laughed and reared up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "You're so cute, Sandor."

He scoffed. "Hardly."

She smiled from ear to ear, loving how shy Sandor could be. "I guess I should get ready."

He seemed to realize that she was still naked, and his blush deepened in color. He muttered something under his breath, disappearing from the room.

She wore a simple blouse and jeans, not wanting to be too fancy, preferring to be comfortable. Once she finished putting on her converse, she grabbed her toothbrush and joined Sandor in the bathroom, where he was fussing with his hair. They stood side by side as she brushed her teeth. After, they both headed over to the house hand in hand. Sandor towered over her, and she didn't know if she would ever get over how tiny he made her feel. It was just another thing she loved about him.

Sandor didn't knock; instead, he used his key to enter and shut the door softly behind him. The house was beautiful, but she didn't have much time to admire it as Sandor led them towards where laughter came from another room. They entered the room where a man and two women sat at a dining table.

A broad smile appeared on the man's face, and Sansa could instantly see the resemblance between him and Sandor. They both had those piercing grey eyes, and strong Grecian features. He stood, and Sansa saw that he had only to be a mere inch shorter than Sandor.

"You must be Sansa," Zane said in a deep voice.

"I am, thank you for letting me stay with Sandor for the time being," she replied, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

"Of course, sweetheart."

A beautiful woman with ebony skin stood as well and made her way over to Sansa, greeting her with a hug. Sansa was a tad surprised by the friendly gesture but returned it all the same. When they pulled away, the woman kept her hands upon Sansa's shoulder and gave her an enchanting smile. Her eyes were so green they popped in contrast to her skin. "We are so happy to have you here."

"I appreciate it," Sansa said with a shy smile.

"Sandor, Sansa, this is Daenerys, she's a good friend, and our lawyer," Zane said, drawing both their attention.

The woman gracefully got to her feet, making her way over to Sansa and Sandor. Daenerys hair was a silver color pulled into intricate braids that piled down well past her waist. Her eyes almost seemed violet standing out against her pale skin. Sansa had never seen anyone of Daenerys' appearance.

She felt mesmerized by her and her beauty. The woman smiled tenderly at Sansa, taking her hand between both of hers.

"I will do everything I can to ensure that Petyr will never bring you any harm again."

Sansa blushed and nodded. "That means a lot to me."

Daenerys patted the back of her hand and shook Sandor's hand before she sat back down. Zane gestured for them to take a seat, and Sansa did as bid. Sandor took a seat beside her.

Daenerys had a binder sat before her and opened it, pulling out what seemed to be documents from what Sansa could tell.

"I have already written up a list of demands and obtained a restraining order. We will appear in court soon, but don't worry. I'll be by your side every step of the way. Petyr may be a capable lawyer, but what he did is inexcusable. He hardly has a chance of going up against me. I may not look it, but I can be just as cutthroat as him." She winked at Sansa, and Sansa could feel the butterflies swarming in her stomach settle.

"What about my mom and siblings?"

"I can reach out to your mom today to see whether she would like me to write up divorce papers or not. I can easily get her the house, and most of her possessions if that is what she desires. I can't force her into anything, but if she knows what is going on with Petyr, then I'm sure she will agree readily."

Sandor placed his palm upon her knee, giving it a soft squeeze. "Her mom and siblings are currently still with him. Do you know if they'll be safe with him at this point?" Sandor asked.

Daenerys placed her elbows on the table, steepling her fingers together. "I think what would be best is to get them out of there for now. I know a safe house for them to stay in while we handle these matters. This could take anywhere from six months to a year, but the house is large and is just one of the properties I own. I'd be more than happy to accommodate them for as long as this process takes."

Sansa's eyes widened as she straightened in her chair. "I wouldn't want-"

Daenerys raised her hand with a kind smile, stopping Sansa from continuing her sentence. "I promise that I have no quarrel with them staying. When my father passed, he left me with many properties that have been going to waste. I had planned to sell, but now I'm glad I didn't because I get to help somebody that needs it."

Tears welled up in Sansa's eyes. She only wanted the best for her family, and once Petyr was out of all their lives, they would be better off. They could all finally find peace, and be happy without some asshole breathing down their necks. He would never replace the hole their father left, no matter how hard he tried. 

"I don't even know what to say," Sansa whispered, hastily wiping a tear away that had fallen.

"You don't have to say anything," Daenerys replied. "I know how difficult it can be to live in a house where you don't feel comfortable. My brother was a drug addict, and he tended to get violent. Sadly, he refused the help my father tried to get him and ended up passing away a few years before my father."

"I'm so sorry," Sansa said, placing a hand to her heart.

Daenerys shook her head. "What is done is done. I'm just glad that I can help your family get away from somebody who thinks that he can walk all over you. I've never cared much for Petyr. He was always the type to go off the rail when he lost a case. I'm sure he won't be happy with what I'm about to do. I'm going to get everything settled for your family. The house they can stay in is not too far off from here, which will allow everyone to comfortably still go to school and live their normal day to day life. Go ahead and call your mom. If she is okay with everything, I can discuss matters further with her once everyone is settled in."

Sansa was on her feet, enveloping Daenerys in a hug before she could even think twice. Daenerys held her tight to her, not seeming surprised at all by Sansa's sudden affection. "Thank you."

"I'm just happy to help."

Sansa let go of her, and Daenerys stood.

"Thank you for your time," Zane said, getting to his feet and helping Daenerys into her blue blazer.

Daenerys smiled up at him, patting his cheek. "You know I'd do anything for your family."

Elaine and Daenerys shared a swift kiss, saying their goodbyes. Daenerys shook Sandor's hand, and gave Sansa one last hug before Zane walked her out.

"I'm a tad tired," Elaine murmured. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"Thank you, Elaine," Sandor replied. She wiggled her fingers at them and headed out of the room.

Sandor cupped the back of Sansa's neck, dragging her into him. She sighed as she rested her forehead against his chest. He ran soothing circles on her back and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm so relieved. All I wanted was for my family to be safe, and now they can be."

"Daenerys is pretty amazing, huh?"

Sansa smiled. "Don't go falling in love with her," she teased.

He grabbed under her jaw, his thumb on one side while his fingers spanned the other side as he raised her head. In his eyes was a swarm of emotions that ranged from utter adoration to something darker that had her gut coil with heat. "You're the only one I will ever be in love with, Sansa," he said huskily.

She placed her hand on his wrist, trying to keep her breathing in check. She had become so wet by the sound of his voice and the control he had over her. She ached for him to fill her and soothe the need that raged through her entire body.

A voice clearing had them both jolting and separating as if they had been doused with water. Sandor rubbed the nape of his neck, a sheepish look upon his face as Zane merely smirked at them. Another man stood beside him with a grin that could only be classified as goofy. He was a big man with a red beard and hair that was slightly more orange than red.

"Oh god," Sandor groaned.

"So, this must be the girl I've heard so much about," the man declared.

"Sansa, this is Tormund, Tormund this is Sansa," Sandor said through gritted teeth.

Tormund wasted no time wrapping Sansa in a bear hug; she felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest. He set her back down on her feet, and she couldn't stop the smile that formed.

"Nice to meet you, Sansa. Our boy here couldn't stop rattling on and on about you. So, it feels like I've known you long before this meeting."

Sandor let out a huff of air, wrapping his arm around Sansa's shoulders, tugging her into his side. "Keep your hands to yourself, Tormund." Sandor's tone was playful, and Tormund bellowed out a laugh in return.

He raised his hands in a placated manner. "Don't worry, kid. She's all yours. Another takes my heart."

"Good, better stay that way," Sandor grunted lightly, punching Tormund's shoulder.

Tormund pretended as if it hurt but gave Sansa a wink that suggested he was just a big goofball.

She giggled and tucked herself more into Sandor's side. The humiliation of being caught not only by his dad but this man too, long gone.

"You'll have to come to meet the others," Tormund declared, beckoning them to follow.

Zane patted Sandor's shoulder as they passed, and headed upstairs to be with Elaine. Tormund talked Sansa and Sandor's ear off as they walked into a building that appeared to be a bar. A few men sat on stools drinking beer as they leaned against the bar top. A couple of others were lounging on a couch talking while a woman and younger guy were yelling at each other as they played video games.

"Attention one and all, Sandor has finally decided to grace us with his beautiful girlfriend, Sansa."

Sandor leaned down, burying his face in Sansa's hair. "This guy," he muttered.

"He's nice," she giggled.

"Well, well, well, kid. You've done good," an older man with dark hair and tan skin said at the bar.

"Thanks, Bronn," Sandor rasped, looking like he wanted to dig a hole and dive into it.

"Sansa, that old man is Bronn, next to him is an even older man that goes by Beric. Over there yelling at one another is Brienne and Gendry. And Over there is Theon and Yara."

Everyone waved. The boy on the couch jumped over the top of it, earning an annoyed look and slap to his ass from Brienne. Gendry glared at her before he bounded over and put his hand out to Sansa. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Sansa returned his smile and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

Gendry turned his blue eyes towards Sandor having to lift them due to Sandor's height. "I keep meaning to show you the tattoo I drew out for you, but a lot has been going on. Did you want to see it now?"

"Hell yeah."

Gendry practically shook with excitement, and ran around the corner, coming back with a sketchbook a moment later. He flipped through the pages until he landed on the one he had been looking for, and presented it to Sandor. Upon the page was Cerberus, the three-headed hound. It was done in such exquisite detail that Sansa thought it would jump right off the page.

"Holy shit, Gendry. This is fucking amazing," Sandor exclaimed.

Gendry puffed his chest out with a grin, looking proud of himself. Sansa noted that he had beautiful ink upon his arms. She wondered just how old he was. He seemed quite young and had to be the same age as them or a year older.

"I'm down to do it whenever you want, buddy."

"My birthday is this Saturday, could we do it then?"

Everyone's eyes were now pinpointed on Sandor. "It's your fucking birthday?" Bronn asked.

"Um, yeah. I'll be eighteen."

"What the hell boy, you only turn eighteen once. We're going to throw you a birthday bash."

"Oh, you don't have to."

Bronn waved his hand, his beer splashing over the top of his glass. "Nonsense, you just leave it to us. We'll handle everything. You and your girl just have to show up."

Sandor agreed with some reluctance. "So, Friday then?" Gendry asked.

"Sounds good. Thanks again for doing this for me."

Gendry reached up, squeezing Sandor's shoulder. "Anything for a friend."

He went to sit by Brienne once more, Sandor guided Sansa to the bar, shaking hands with Beric and Bronn before taking a seat on the stool.

"Does the pretty lady want a drink?" Bronn asked with a toothy smile.

"I'll have a gin and tonic."

"Oh, fancy," Bronn chuckled and got up to make it for her.

Sandor sat beside her. "You doing okay?"

"Yes, bringing me here really has helped to take my mind off everything going on. I have to call my mom, though, but a drink is needed before that conversation."

Sandor nodded, getting a beer for himself as Bronn finished her making her drink, and set it before her. She thanked him and enjoyed the sharp taste.

Once everyone became immersed in conversation, Sansa snuck off outside to call her mom. She brought her drink with her, sitting down on the porch steps, and set it beside her. She dialed her mom's phone number and waited.

"Sansa, oh thank god, you scared the hell out of me! Why wasn't your phone on?" Sansa nibbled on her bottom lip, knowing she should have texted her mom, but she hadn't wanted to be bothered while she was with Sandor.

"Mom, I'm fine. I'm with Sandor. I'm safe. Are you guys all okay?" She chose to ignore her mom's question needing to ensure they were all safe too.

"I'm going to divorce Petyr, but I can't say I'm not scared. He's been holed up in his office, and I know that's not a good sign."

Sansa was thankful for that small relief. "I have a lawyer, mom, and she has a house where all of you can stay until everything is handled."

"A lawyer? How?"

"It's a long story, but just know she can take Petyr down. I just need to know all of you are somewhere he can't get to you."

"Are you sure she's truly okay with that?"

"I promise, mom. She's pretty amazing."

Her mom let out a small sigh of relief. "I should have known Sansa. I'm so sorry."

Her mom really should have noticed just how grimy Petyr was from the start, but there was no point in making her feel bad about it anymore. "Don't worry, mom. Just get everyone's stuff packed, and I'll talk to Daenerys."

"Are you really okay, Sansa?"

"Yes, I promise. Sandor is a good guy, and so is his family."

"You love him, don't you?"

Sansa's heart thumped harder. "Yes, I do."

"He's one of the good ones. I can tell."

Sansa smiled. "Yeah, he is."

"I love you so much, Sansa."

"I love you too, mom."

"We'll talk soon?"

"Yes, I'll call with all the details."

"Okay, then, I'll talk to you soon, love."

"Bye, mom."

Sansa hung up and placed her phone on her lap. She took another swig of her drink and reveled in the slight burn.

Petry may have thought he was winning, but Sansa would be taking him down soon enough.

No one messed with her family and got away with it.

She trusted Daenerys to get Petyr out of the picture.

The Stark family would finally be out from under his clutches.

Sansa laid back and smiled, knowing everything would turn out for the best.

☼

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for Sandor's tattoo


	29. Ocean of Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been super busy with school and work. Also, this pandemic has been crazy. So, forgive me for taking so long to post this chapter!  
> It's mostly porn with plot, to be honest, but still hope you all enjoy <3
> 
> Sending much love to all of you!

_**This is gonna be torture** _   
_**Before it's sublime** _   
_**Does that make it crazy?,**_   
_**Cash in all of my courage** _   
_**Before you're all mine** _   
_**Does that make it crazy?,**_

_**Oh, my God, I wanna know what it feels like** _   
_**To pull you close and tangle up with you real tight** _

Sandor stared at the finished tattoo displayed on his back. He had decided he wanted it to take up most of his back. Due to it being much more extensive than planned, Gendry began it on Tuesday instead. His sister and Sansa had sat beside him every day since Gendry started it for him. Sandor couldn't have been happier to see the two girls that meant the most to him getting along. He understood why things had been tense between the two at first, but now they were rapidly becoming close.

The tattoo had taken a few days to complete and extensive hours, but he and Gendry had toughed it out, and it had been well worth the wait. Gendry had been the right choice to do the tattoo for him. His art style looked so realistic that Sandor swore the Cerberus would come to life and jump off his back.

"It's fucking amazing," Sandor said to Gendry, earning a bright smile in return.

"Thank you. I'm just going to clean it up and bandage it. Also, I want to make sure your tattoo doesn't get infected. So, these are the tips for taking care of it. In about four hours, take off the bandaging and gently wash the tattoo with lukewarm water. I'm sure Sansa can help you out," he winked, making Sansa blush, "Then put some unscented moisturizing cream on. I'll give that to you. It's up to you to rebandage it, but you don't have to. Do your best to keep your tattoo dry. No swimming, baths, or anything along those lines. Avoid direct sunlight as best as you can. If your skin naturally heals quickly, then the tattoo should only take up to a few weeks to a month or so to heal. Don't itch the tattoo, and try your best to avoid sleeping on your back or doing any certain activities that will cause you to sweat profusely. Other than that, any other questions?"

Sandor shook his head. "I think you've covered it all. Thanks again, it's perfect."

"Of course, buddy. Don't be a stranger. I'm always happy to give free tattoos to friends." Gendry gave him a warm smile before turning to put away all his supplies and clean up his station. The club had given him his own room to specifically work on tattoos, and it was spacious enough to sit comfortably even with four people in the room.

"It's so cool," Anne exclaimed, getting a closer look at all the detail that Gendry had put into the tattoo.

"Glad you approve."

Anne moved out of the way, allowing Gendry to put some type of gel on his skin and bandaged it up. "You're all set," Gendry said.

Sandor shook his hand before heading out of the room, deciding to forgo his shirt for the time being. Sansa and Anne followed him, chatting lowly to each other.

Brienne and Bronn sat at the bar with Beric cleaning off glasses. "Geez, kid, trying to intimidate us all with all your flashy muscles," Bronn jested, taking a sip of his beer.

Sandor felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Goodness, he's so cute when he blushes," Brienne laughed.

Sansa's hand slipped into his. "Right? I can't get enough of it," Sansa agreed with a sly smile on her face.

"Remember no S-E-X if it involves him being on his back and no clawing at his back," Gendry chided, moving past them as he went up to the bar, asking Beric for a beer.

Sandor noticed Anne roll her eyes. "I know how to spell; thank you for very much," she muttered.

Sandor stroked the back of her head, surprised she didn't pull away from him or swat him away. "Pretend like you didn't hear him say that for your big brothers' peace of mind, okay?"

Anne let out a snort. "Okay, whatever you say."

Gendry turned to Anne. "Want to play Tekken?"

Anne lit up and nodded enthusiastically. Sandor was grateful that everyone had taken a liking to Anne and had no quarrel hanging with her. He noticed that since they moved in, she had become more independent and seemed to not mind being by his side 24/7. Sandor knew that she would grow up one day and not need him as much, but he still felt a tinge of sadness thinking about such a thing. They were the only family they had for so long until recently. He would have to get used to her wanting to hang out with others versus just wanting to hang out with him.

Anne hopped on the couch, taking the controller Gendry offered.

"We have Saturday all set. Ready to be eighteen?" Bronn asked.

Sandor turned his attention away from his sister to take a seat next to Bronn. Sansa had started a conversation with Brienne without Sandor, even noticing.

"I mean, as ready as I'll ever be. I've never really had a birthday party or anything like that."

Beric placed a beer in front of Sandor before returning to wiping off the counter. He thanked him and took a hearty sip relishing the bitter taste he had become accustomed to.

"I'm sorry, kid."

Sandor shrugged his shoulders. "It never bothered me. I did my best to make Anne's birthday special, but I didn't really care about mine."

"You're going to have the time of your life on Saturday. I can promise you that."

"Thank you."

"Your tattoo looks amazing from what I can see."

Sandor smiled at that. "Gendry is an amazing artist. Zane was right."

"He usually is."

"Yeah, he's done a lot for me. You all have."

Bronn set his beer down, peeling at the label mindlessly. "You're a good kid, Sandor. No matter how much we might have scared the living daylights out of you in the beginning, I hope that you can find a family in all of us. Zane was tormented when he thought he'd never see you again. I've never been a man to believe much in fate, but hell, you coming back into Zane's life in such a strange manner is no coincidence in my book. You two were meant to find each other again. Fate," he mumbled, tipping the bottle towards Sandor before finishing it off.

Sandor raised his beer in a silent salute. He shared the same sentiment as Bronn. This was his family now, and no matter how difficult the road was to find them again, he was happy being around them. He could only hope that Sansa would find a home here too until things settled down with her family. She seemed more content, her smiles genuine, and her laughs warm and inviting.

School had been another matter entirely. She had been pestered and ridiculed for being seen with him, but she took it all in stride. Plus, his overbearing shadow helped keep people at bay. After a few days, people didn't look twice at them, and Sansa didn't seem too put out by being shunned by the "popular" crowd.

Sandor didn't entirely understand how things changed so rapidly in such a short time, but he wouldn't complain. Everything was finally coming together in his life. He could see a future for himself now. One where he was happy with Sansa by his side and his sister succeeding as a Doctor. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes, and enjoyed the comforting noise of those he cared about surrounding him.

∞

"Keep your eyes closed," Zane said, guiding Sandor up the steps.

"Easy for you to say. I feel like I'm about to fall flat on my face," Sandor muttered.

"I won't let you fall, kid. We're almost there."

Sandor heard a door open and then, "Open your eyes."

Sandor did as he was told, and when his eyes opened, all the people who had become family to him shouted 'Happy Birthday' at the top of their lungs. Sandor felt slightly overwhelmed and out of his element as he took in how they had transformed the club with banners of 'Happy Birthday, Sandor.' They had created a dance floor too. The bar was decked out with different kinds of mixed drinks. What looked like to be jello shots on a table with various snacks ranging from chips to candy. Everyone smiled at him, allowing him the time to process all the excitement. Finally, he felt leveled enough to talk without choking up.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Let's get this party started!" Tormund declared boisterously, and everyone erupted into hoots and hollers.

Zane cupped the back of Sandor's neck, pressing a kiss to his forehead. When his dad pulled back, Sandor couldn't help but return the bright smile that rained down on him. "Happy birthday, son."

"Thanks, Dad, for everything."

Zane merely nodded. "Go have fun."

∞

Sansa watched as Zane pressed a kiss to Sandor's forehead before he headed to Elaine, who chatted animatedly with Brienne. Sandor watched his dad walk away and then seemed to snap to as he searched the crowd until his eyes landed on her.

Sansa felt a wave of heat flow through her at the way his eyes roved over her from head to toe. She had decided on a simple black sweater that fell off one shoulder, revealing pale skin paired with her favorite red pleated mini-skirt and black Mary Jane pumps. She was already tall without the pumps, but with them, she knew her legs looked a mile long. She could tell Sandor was not disappointed with all the skin she revealed. She wore her hair down in soft waves and put on a tad of makeup to complete her ensemble. She felt confident under Sandor's ardent gaze and stood straighter as he finally gathered the nerve to approach her.

He reached her in a few long strides, peering down at her with grey eyes being swallowed whole by his pupils. She could only describe his gaze as hungry as he reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're so damn beautiful, Sansa," he softly stated. His fingertips smoothed down her neck, raising goosebumps on her skin.

"Thank you." Even though Sansa wore heels, Sandor still managed to tower over her. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips that made her want more. He pulled away too soon and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"You two aren't sick of each other yet?" Bronn joked, pulling both hers and Sandor's attention to him.

"I'll never get sick of her," Sandor replied, taking the drink Bronn offered him.

Sansa smiled as Bronn handed her a gin and tonic and thanked him. "Does the lady agree?"

"Of course, I love Sandor."

She looked up at him to see his cheeks had gone red. He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. Sansa stifled her giggling behind her drink, but she knew both men heard her.

Bronn laughed light-heartedly. "You got this kid wrapped around your pretty little finger, don't you?" He said with a wink.

"Hm, it might be the other way around."

Sandor glanced down at her, and she gave him a small smile. He swallowed, her eyes trailing the way his Adam's apple bobbed. He tore his gaze away from hers, taking a hearty drink of his beer.

"My God, the sexual tension between you two is too much," Bronn muttered, shaking his head.

This time Sansa was the one to blush. She wasn't making it less obvious that she fancied Sandor in every way possible. She could feel the need rolling off Sandor in waves and the heat that he seemed to radiate naturally.

"Don't say shit like that," Sandor grumbled.

"Just a heads up, once you're drunk and can't keep your hands off each other, there's a room at the back of the clubhouse that no one uses," Bronn said nonchalantly and waved to Beric for another beer.

"Kill me," Sandor rasped under his breath.

Sansa did just that to her drink, downing it in one go and setting it back on the bar. Sandor noticed and raised a brow at her.

"Thirsty," she replied to his unspoken question.

He simply nodded and finished off his drink. "Want to go take those jello shots that look like death?"

Sansa couldn't help but laugh. "I would love to."

They headed over to the table, and Sandor handed her a tiny plastic cup with green Jello inside. They clinked their cups together and said cheers before emptying them in one go. They weren't the worst thing Sansa had tasted, but they weren't exactly pleasant either. However, when Sandor handed her another one, this time pink, she didn't hesitate to take it.

Before they knew it, Gendry, Tormund, Brienne, Theon, and Yara had joined them in taking Jello shots. After, Sansa sat out while they all chugged a beer at lightning speed. Sandor seemed to be having the time of his life as he laughed and chatted with his newfound friends.

Sansa couldn't be happier for him. She knew that he always wanted a place where he could belong, and now, he had it. Her own situation at home may not be what she wished for, but she was glad that she had Sandor by her side to keep her pushing forward.

Sandor turned his sights to her and reached out to her, bringing her into his embrace.

"Want to dance?" He murmured by her ear. 

She nodded, and he took her hand, leading her onto the dance floor where others danced drunkenly without a care in the world. Sandor placed his hands on her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, careful not to disturb his tattoo. She had decided against going to prom, and she had no doubt Sandor wouldn't want to go anyways. Dancing with him at this very moment was better than anything a silly high school dance could offer.

He peered down at her, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. His skin was flushed from drinking, and his eyes hooded, but he still looked handsome as ever, and the adoring way he looked at her sparked butterflies in her belly.

"I'll never get tired of looking at you," Sandor spoke, slipping his hands beneath her sweater, caressing the skin at her waist with calloused fingers. She shivered as his thumbs stroked her stomach up and down, a lazy smile adorning his face.

He leaned down, whispering next to her ear, "You know you're the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on?"

Sansa huffed out a laugh. "You're drunk."

"Doesn't mean I'm not telling the truth."

Sansa swallowed, trying to compose herself while being surrounded by one too many people. Sandor didn't seem to care if anyone was paying attention to them. He pulled her closer by her hips, connecting their bodies with no space in between. Sansa could feel his desire pressed up against her stomach, and he wasted no time in dipping his head in to kiss along her jaw.

She startled when she felt his hand slip through her hair and clutch the red strands. His grip wasn't painful but still tight enough to show her who was running the show now. He gently pulled her head back, baring her neck to him in a form of utter surrender. He leaned in, sucking a kiss into the connective tissue of her jaw and neck. She reached up, clutching his forearm as he nibbled a line down her neck that would surely bruise. 

"Want you bad," he panted by her ear, nipping at her lobe.

"S-Sandor, everyone can see us," she said on a shaky breath as she felt his teeth sink gently into her shoulder.

"Want to go somewhere private?" He murmured, soothing the ache of the bite with the tip of his tongue.

"Your tattoo," she whispered, feeling a familiar ache settle low in her stomach.

He huffed a frustrated sound and pressed his forehead to hers. A small smile curled on his lips, his eyes were dark with lust, but she knew how much he loved her; how much he respected her. He would never pressure her into anything, no matter how pent up he was. And she could tell he was very pent up with the way his desire practically begged for release.

She reached up, brushing her fingers through his shaggy hair. It had grown so much since the first day of school, and she found herself enchanted by how soft the strands were. Sandor groaned softly as she gently scratched his head, his hands finding their way back to her hips. She couldn't deny him anything. She would always give Sandor the release he craved.

She pulled away from him, slipping her hand in his, and avoided the knowing stares of everyone around them as she led him to the room Bronn had mentioned earlier. Once there, she quickly pushed him inside, earning a small chuckle in return. She shut the door, locking it hastily, and turned around, pressing her back up against the door, realizing her heart was pounding much too hard for comfort.

The room didn't offer much more than a bed, nightstand, and a desk with a stereo on it. Sansa swallowed through the knot that had formed in her throat. She found the courage to walk over to the stereo, turning it on to at least have some music to overshadow her shaky breathing. She didn't understand why she was so nervous. She had been with Sandor in the most intimate of ways and had confessed her love for him.

The thought of prom tonight could be the reason for her nerves. It was a signal that high school would soon be coming to an end, and she would be starting a brand-new life without Petyr in the picture. She just hoped that Sandor would stick around for this new chapter of her life.

Sansa was once again letting insecurities cloud her mind; the touch of Sandor's large hand cupping her face startled her out of them.

"You get so lost in your own head sometimes, little bird," Sandor said softly, lowering his mouth closer to hers.

"I'm sorry," she responded, licking her lips.

His eyes tracked the movement, the silver in his eyes dissolving into black. "Nothing to apologize for. I know that pretty brain of yours is always overthinking things. You know I want you. You know I'll only leave once you kick me to the curb like the dog I am. I'm yours, Sansa. Don't fucking forget that," he growled and captured her lips in a kiss that was deep and hungry.

Sansa didn't like it when he referred to himself as a dog, but he did not give her any chance to speak up against the issue. His lips left no room for protest as he used his tongue to part hers roughly. She moaned at the taste of jello shots sweet on his breath. His warm hand grasped the back of her neck, ensuring no escape. Her hands trembled, shooting out to grapple with his belt. He broke the kiss, hooded eyes lowering to where she struggled with his belt until it finally gave in to her whims, unbuckling and leaving her to attack the button of his jeans next.

"I'm yours," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. She couldn't even talk, desperate to have him in her mouth. The zipper got stuck, he hissed softly, still making no moves to help her. After what felt like forever trying to get him out of his jeans, she managed to yank them down, glad to see he had gone without undergarments per usual.

Sansa wasted no time dropping to her knees, the carpet burning her instantly. She ignored the string, wrapping her hand around his cock, and guided it into her mouth without further hesitation.

She wasn't going to tease him, not tonight. Right now, all she wanted was for him to use her mouth for his own satisfaction.

Sandor spat curses out at a speed she had never heard from him before. His hand seized a handful of her hair, pulling her away from his cock. She gave him a confused look, not having to wait long as he released her hair and sat down on the bed. He kicked his jeans off at the same time he tore his shirt up and over his head. He tossed it aside, baring his entire body to her. She didn't miss the hint of vulnerability blazing in his eyes. Yet, he merely grasped the bed sheets and waited for her to make the next move.

Sansa wasted no time in taking off her sweater and bra. She decided to leave the skirt, planting her hands on the ground, crawling over to him until she sat comfortably between his spread legs. She clasped onto those tree trunk thighs of his and brought her mouth back to his dripping cock. He snarled at the feeling, immediately cradling her head in his hands. She sucked eagerly, allowing him to guide her movements to his own rhythm. She shut her eyes, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, making her gag, but she refused to push him away.

"Open your eyes," he growled.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his.

A wolfish smirk crawled onto his lips. "Look at you. Even with my cock crammed in your mouth, you still manage to seem so innocent. But we both know that's not true. Right, little bird?"

She could only nod, and he huffed out a strained sound. Sansa wasn't prepared for him to tear his cock out of her mouth. He hoisted her off the ground quickly, yanked her underwear down her legs, and placed her on his lap. His hands encircled her waist, making her feel tiny in his hold.

"I need to be inside you, Sansa," he groaned, his head dropping onto her shoulder.

She needed him as much as he needed her. "Condom?"

"In my jeans." He pressed feverish kisses to her neck, his fingers digging slightly into her skin. She managed to grab his jeans that weren't that far off and found the condom in the back pocket. She returned to him, tearing it open, and made room between them to roll it onto his throbbing member.

His hands moved from her waist to under her ass, grabbing the globes and spreading them to the point she felt overly exposed. She blushed, feeling the muscles in her back hole seem to stretch as he raised her opening above his cock. He wasted no time in pressing the tip inside, lowering her inch by painstaking inch. Her hands were trapped against his chest, her fingers clawing at the coarse hair upon it.

"Good girl," he grunted, using the leverage on her ass to move her up and down on his cock with shallow thrusts.

His hands were massive. They spanned the entirety of her ass, fingertips close to touching the wetness leaking out of her. So close to that hole that had never been touched before. She clenched around him at the thought of what it would feel like to have him back there. She knew it would hurt, but there was a possibility it could bring great pleasure.

"Fuck, you keep getting tighter and tighter. What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?" Sandor panted, leaning in to nip at her jaw. 

She flushed from head to toe. "It's nothing," she moaned, feeling him surge deeper and deeper inside her from below.

"Tell me," he commanded in a low, husky voice.

Sansa felt too shy to tell him what she wanted, but the desire in his eyes made her feel more confident. "I was curious about how….um…anal would feel," she rushed the last words out.

A feral look appeared on Sandor's face. She was unprepared for one powerful arm to band around her waist, pressing them chest to chest. The new angle made him stretch her to the point she felt she was going to burst; positive he was pushing up into her stomach at this point. She gasped as his fingertips swiped through the wetness that pooled around the base of his cock and brought them to her back hole. He pressed his middle finger drenched with her need to the new spot and began to circle it. She cried out, his free hand pressing to the small of her back to keep her in place.

"You want me here?" he breathed against her ear, tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue.

"Mm-hmmm." Speaking coherently had gone out the window. Sansa could only focus on breathing, or else she would pass out.

She felt a searing sensation, a pop, and then his finger was buried into the first knuckle. The feeling foreign, one, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She couldn't even process if she hated it or absolutely loved it.

He smashed his mouth to hers, a rough moan escaping the back of his throat. She whimpered indelicately into his mouth when he started burying more of his finger inside her, causing the pressure of his dick inside her to intensify. She lost her sanity when he began to move his cock and finger inside of her in a tantalizing motion that had her seeing stars. Her head fell back, sucking in needy gulps of air as she drew closer and closer to orgasming.

"Fuck, yes, Sansa, yes, I can feel you getting close," he snarled through gritted teeth.

She had started to rock against him, taking him deeper and deeper. He used her momentum to start slamming her down on his cock, another finger working its way inside her ass.

"Sandor, I can't take it," she cried out, burying her face in his neck.

"Yes, you can, little bird. You're going to come so hard on my cock. You're so fucking tight. So fucking close," he rambled, seemingly delirious with his own pleasure, "Come on my cock, give it to me."

Those words said in such a husky and aggressive tone send her over the edge. She screamed her release, unable to hold back at how incredible it felt. His movements slowed, fingers slipping from her to grasp her waist and turn her onto her back. He tugged the condom off, shoving her skirt up to reveal the red curls beneath it. He stroked his cock vigorously, and she could only lay there, winded and trembling from such an intense orgasm.

"Grab the underside of your knees," Sandor stuttered, his eyes pinpointed to the space between her thighs.

Her movements were languid as she obeyed him. He groaned, his hand speeding up. She knew he wanted to paint her with his seed, and she found it unbelievably hot.

"I want you to cum all over my pussy," Sansa declared, catching him off guard.

"Shit," he hissed, the words sending him over the edge. White, hot strips landed on her stomach, her curls, and dripped down her slit.

Their harsh breathing filled the air along with the soft music that still played in the background.

"I'll get something to clean you up," Sandor murmured, red high on his cheeks.

Sansa didn't care about being clean; she dragged Sandor on top of her, giving him a heated kiss.

"I love you."

He chuckled lowly. "I love you too, Sansa."

"You're so sexy," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"If you say so."

She had no fight in her. So, she ignored the comment and helped him to bed, making sure he laid on his stomach to not disrupt the tattoo on his back.

"Sandor, do you think we'll be together forever?"

He grasped her chin between his fingers and pressed a heartwarming kiss to her lips. "I won't be going anywhere, Sansa. I'll be by your side as long as you'll have me."

On that note, he snuggled his face into her neck, and within minutes she heard soft snores escaping him.

She couldn't be happier. With a full heart and a mess between her thighs, Sansa fell into a blissful sleep.

¤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	30. Exist For Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!
> 
> I'm sorry this took forever and I also apologize it is such a short epilogue! However, I hope you enjoy this final tidbit into this crazy story that somehow made it to 30 chapters! My longest story yet!
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for the support. It means a lot.
> 
> Much love <3

**_And then I learned the truth_ **   
**_How everything good in life seems to lead back to you_ **   
**_And every single time I run into your arms_ **   
**_I feel like I exist for love_ **   
**_Like I exist for love_ **   
**_Only for love_ **

EPILOGUE

10 YEARS LATER

Sansa held her daughter in her arms, gazing over at Sandor, who smiled and clapped like a mad man seeing his sister on stage receiving her bachelor’s degree. Zane had no quarrel, paying for the entirety of Anne’s education while Sandor went to school. He even told Sandor he didn’t have to be an enforcer anymore. Sansa went to college too and earned her Master’s in Sociology. She went on to become a professor in Social Determinants of Health. Sandor and her married once he earned his bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering a few years ago.

Their daughter Adele was born two years ago. They had planned to start having children in their late twenties to give their kids the best life possible. Adele had been the perfect gift to both of them. Sandor absolutely adored her, and Sansa couldn’t even count how many times she caught him holding her while napping. The pair were inseparable.

Sansa and Sandor’s road wasn’t easy, but they had pushed past all of the barriers that stood in their way. Petyr ended up losing against Danny and spent six months in prison for simple assault after the judge and jury saw the evidence of Sansa’s bruises. Not long after he was released did he spiral into a world of drugs and alcohol. The last Sansa heard of him was that he had gotten multiple DUIs. He also had found himself back in prison, where he would stay there for much longer due to a hit and run. He never bothered the Stark family ever again.

Arya and Gendry started becoming close while they were both in college. Their love was a slow blossoming one, but suddenly one day, they couldn’t take their eyes off of one another. Sansa couldn’t be happier for her.

Her mother also found happiness with a new man that treated her like a queen.

In the end, all Sansa’s dreams had come true. She achieved a master’s degree, married the man she loved, had a child with him, and saw her family find happiness of their own. She knew the future would only continue to get brighter for all of them.

“I love you.” Sansa gazed over at Sandor, who smiled at her. He pinched Adele’s cheek playfully, and she giggled in response, reaching out for him with her tiny arms. She had Sandor’s big grey eyes and Sansa’s red hair and fair skin, the sweetest dimples, and the most beautiful toothy smile.

“I love you too,” Sansa replied, handing Adele over to Sandor. He hauled her into his burly arms with ease. Adele cooed and nuzzled her face into his neck. He rubbed her back soothingly and gently rocked her.

A breeze cooled Sansa’s skin, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the needed reprieve from the sun. When she opened her eyes, Adele was fast asleep on Sandor’s chest. He stared off in thought like he always did, allowing Sansa to take in all his handsome features.

A warm feeling flowed through her, and she closed her eyes once more.

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> Much love <3


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